Cicadas in 1984
by The Messenger Crow
Summary: 1984. In a miraculous, yet nearly dystopian Hinamizawa where not one villager has died, Keiichi Maebara, a conscripted fireman, must fight the spread of contraband and the spirit of dissent growing in his own heart as a different sort of great disaster begins to take shape.
1. Ypkth Cgiefyex

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 _Cicadas in 1984_

 _1984\. In a miraculous, yet nearly dystopian Hinamizawa where not one villager has died, Keiichi Maebara, a conscripted fireman, must fight the spread of contraband and the spirit of dissent growing in his own heart as a different sort of great disaster begins to take shape._

* * *

I saw a scroll in the right hand of the One seated on the throne. It had writing on both sides and was sealed with seven seals. And I saw a mighty angel proclaiming in a loud voice, "Who is worthy to break the seals and open the scroll?" But no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll or look inside it. And I began to weep bitterly, because no one was found worthy to open the scroll or look inside it. Then one of the elders said to me, "Do not weep! Behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the root of David, has triumphed to open the scroll and its seven seals." Then I saw a Lamb who appeared to have been slain, standing in the center of the throne, encircled by the four living creatures and the elders. The lamb had seven horns and seven eyes, which represent the sevenfold Spirit of God sent out into all the earth….

 _Revelation 5:1-6_

* * *

 _Chapter 1: Ypkth Cgiefyex_

 _May 31_ _st_ _, 1984_

On that day it was cold and damp, with heavy rain and howling winds battering the roadways. It was more than unusual for a summer season in general, let alone one in this carefully carved out region of rural land that comprised the countryside of central Honshu. The remnants of a typhoon had been battering the tilled land for hours now, and it was evident that there was no sign of the storm letting up.

At such a time just about anyone would have battened down the hatches – but on that day a powerful movement was forming. Something that while not necessarily malignant in nature was more than enough to tip the meticulously maintained balance that governed these lands, having long since been abandoned by the outside world.

In the far reaches of this land resided an old cemetery, one that was largely western in design, decorated with statues of archangels and crucifixes, its gravestones elaborated adorned as well. It was a cemetery for Christians –a blight in the eyes of the land's inhabitants, and served only as a reminder of the stigma between them and the way of life they had rejected. It was poorly maintained, tended to solely by community service representatives, voluntary or otherwise. The gravestones were greatly worn away, some even broken, as were the statues. In a place like this vandalism was common, some of the statues even relatively fresh with spray paint. It was a pit, fit only for laying to rest corpses that someone didn't want found.

It was here, on a stretch of land condemned by all but those that dwelled beneath its surface, that this movement began. And it did not begin out on the city streets with a resounding crescendo or a rebel yell – it began, as all such movements that truly mattered did, in silence, in the dark, in a circle of well dressed, stern faced men for whom there was no pride, only the gamble they had made, and the reality of its consequences.

And there were at least twelve of them – depraved looking men with hollowed out faces and visible bones, each more suspicious looking than the last, standing around a single gravestone, the jackets of their black suits swaying in the wind, some holding umbrellas while others relying on their hats for cover. One man, more sufficiently nourished than the others, was kneeling just in front of it, his hands folded, his head hung and his eyes shut in a state of deep prayer. Naught could be heard from that graveyard but the wind, the men hovering there in silence for what seemed like hours without an utterance of any kind.

But eventually the kneeling man opened his eyes and stood up, and though he struggled at first was aided by two of the men at his side, propping himself up straight with a cane one of them had handed him. He gazed down at the grave for a moment more before turning away.

"We're done here," He spoke, his voice scratchy, doing all that it could to hide the emotion away. "We've got a long drive ahead of us. Let's go."

The congregation left the cemetery one by one, trudging through the damp dirt path and heading for the cars lined up on the side of the road. At the front of the pack of mostly black cars with tinted windows was a white limousine, which the man with the cane and two others entered.

The man slid into the back of the limousine, sighing with relief as his ailing legs were at last allowed to rest. Another man with a scar across his nose sat next to him and the other, a man with an eye patch, just across from him.

"We got a call from our man at the estate. They just started taking visitors now." The man in the driver's seat spoke. "The doctor says she's got less than a month to live."

"Have him tell them that we're on our way." The man replied with a sigh. "There's gonna be one hell of a line by the time we get there."

"It'll be fine. She's an old woman now – and the family hasn't been in the business for years." The scarred man as the limousine started moving. "Most people that have a beef with the Sonozakis moved on to bigger problems a long time ago. What I'd like to know is what we're going to be able to wring out of her."

"I've taken care of all of that already," the limping man, his superior, reassured him. "It's already arranged. We're going to get what we want, and then leave without issue."

The man next to him, snorted. "I guess that's one way of putting it. Hey – you hear anything about her grandkids? I heard they were pretty cute."

"Forget about it. They're both still kids." The driver said.

"Are they at least out of high school?"

"They're both sixteen. They're both pretty good at chopping up body parts already, or so I hear," the man with the eye patch cut in.

The scarred man groaned, but the limping man suddenly took interest in their conversation. "Those kids – Mion and Shion, right?"

"Yeah, they're twins." The man with the eye patch replied. "One took a job in Okinomiya to pay off some family debts and the other is going to take up the leadership when the old bag passes."

"So that business back in '79 – were they perhaps involved in that?"

"Seems likely. The police reports brought up child fighters pretty frequently."

"And their captains approved?"

"There weren't any captains – it was little more than an angry mob; they weren't yakuza so they didn't behave like yakuza. The parents probably encouraged them to get involved; I doubt the family had to do much of anything."

"I see." He fell silent after that, his eyes narrowed and his hands gripping his cane strongly.

The road to their destination was long and winding, cutting through several towns along the way – but the procession moved onward, stopping for very little. By the time they reached the mountains it had been four hours, the storm extending the duration of the trip considerably. The rain had let up just enough that it was possible to see out the windows – while the other two passengers struggled with exhaustion, the limping man was practically excited, his eyes glued to the landscape outside, in some ways resembling an excited child.

The remainder of the road was paved but still proved difficult to traverse with the minor flooding and the lack of maintenance in general. But eventually they reached the end of the path, where the flat ground began to slant downward, much like the edge of a crater – just beyond that peak was a settlement of tents and hovels, with huts built out of scrap metal, rusted shipping containers and wooden planks, large enough an encampment to house at least two hundred people. It wasn't only the buildings, but the culture as well – there were liberated street signs everywhere with all kinds of profane messages spray painted onto them, achieving a perfect balance between 'fuck the Sonozakis' and 'fuck the police'. The villagers, which in this case were better described as beggars, were dressed in run down garbs that had seen many a harsh storm and slept both in the tents and out in the open, forgoing sheets and pillows for animal skins and knapsacks.

It was a sea of filth of all kinds, nearly large enough to be considered its own settlement – populated by the kind of trash that belongs in a bin, as well as the kind that leaves their newborns in one. A village built of scrap, leather and bone that managed to hold together despite the wind and rain, populated by the scum of the earth, both the homeless and the reckless, whose only warmth came from the dowsed bonfires that were spread out across the camp. Day in and day out the people that lingered in this place would celebrate their god and their independence from the status quo that, ironically enough, had been legally granted permission to roost just outside the wall.

As such, it was known as Mahamatsuri, the squalid hamlet that lived both figuratively and literally in the shadow of Hinamizawa. Legally recognized by the Japanese government as an independent settlement, even if only as a tool to further its own agenda. It was a hollow thing, with no meaning beyond existing as a sort of counterculture.

Even from inside the limousine he could hear the shouting and screaming as they were quickly noticed by a mob of beggars that promptly surrounded their vehicle, despite the wind and rain that ate away at them. Naturally none of them were wearing any kind of protection – the sheer desperation of these people was astounding. The driver pressed on, however – it seemed that the beggars were intelligent enough to not get run over.

Through the window he took note of one that was merely leaning against a shipping container, though not because of their lack of interest but because of what they were wearing. The man in question was dressed in a beige coat that was nearly completely in tatters, with shreds of its leather wrapped around his head, enshrouding everything from his eyes up. Despite that, his head followed the limousine with little issue.

Further down the road past the deprived village a great wall towered, nearly four stories tall, that stretched from one end of the basin to the other with a single opening straight ahead that was crawling with what he could only assume to be security guards. He could just barely make it out in the rain, but he could see the outline of a large tower off in the distance.

The men stationed at the apparent checkpoint were all dressed in white ceremonial robes – he imagined that there was some kind of protective gear underneath it if the intentions of these mean were to prevent the beggars from passing through the gate. The driver rolled down his window and verified with one of the men that their visitation was authorized. The robed men moved about to confirm that there were no more than the twelve of them attempting to enter, checking the interiors and the trunks of the limousine and the two cars behind them for both extra passengers and anything that was considered contraband, going as far as to pat down each and every man.

Beyond the wall, virtually all drugs that weren't prescribed by a local doctor were prohibited, and anyone with an inhaler of any kind was checked over repeatedly. Nicotine was forbidden as well, along with just about anything else someone would consider smoking, each with their own degree of legal severity. In the realm of the oddly specific, there were supposedly two varieties of fish found on Okinawa and a particular type of vegetable oil imported from India that were blacklisted as well.

After a good thirty minutes waiting on the inspection to finish they were finally given the ok to proceed further. The iron gate before them was opened from the other side and the entourage proceeded further in. At last they were, in a sense, free – and past the wall was the great basin, surrounded by heavily forested mountains that at its base housed the promised land, Hinamizawa. Even under the dreary sky the fields were gorgeous, as were the pristine buildings off in the distance – from a distance the village was quite a thing to behold. And, of course, above all else, the fabled Furude Tower, which stood above it all at the center of the village as one of the tallest buildings in the region – fifteen stories of carefully crafted wood and tin, that had somehow managed to remain standing entirely unimpeded for a dozen generations as a building dedicated to the god of the land.

Hinamizawa was a religious symbol – the Mecca of a Shintoist sect that had gained substantial ground on Honshu in the years following World War II, due largely to the village's involvement in the post-war recovery effort. Spreading almost like an infectious disease the worship of Hinamizawa's god had become embedded in the surrounding area.

But Hinamizawa was ground on which only a few were allowed to tread. Many who had lost everything in their struggle through the outside world came in search of some kind of absolution from their god, but the ruling class within the village did not approve of the outsiders. The fact that their faith had spread at all was an unforeseen consequence of their involvement – the god that the ailing people of the outside world believed in and the 'true' god were very different things. The wall, built in the early fifties, was constructed in order to keep the masses from defiling the traditions of the village with their blind, meaningless worship – and so the scrap heap outside the village was formed, by those that demanded the blessings of the god but were denied, and simply sat there and waited, gazing longingly at the Furude Tower awaiting the for a chance to slip past the wall.

The people of Mahamatsuri clamored for an absolution that would never come, while the people of Hinamizawa shielded themselves from that reality with a stone wall. It was rather depressing.

It was no surprise that there was another checkpoint further down the road, at which men armed with semiautomatic rifles were stationed. It turned out that this checkpoint was merely a distribution desk – as Hinamizawa is nowhere near large enough to sustain itself entirely on its own and some interaction with third parties was required, there was a system of permits and bands in place to regulate this as thoroughly as possible.

In more recent years, though mostly after heavy police involvement following a certain event in 1979 and the sudden need for Hinamizawa to maintain an outward appearance that wouldn't upset the authorities, the number of visitors being permitted had increased significantly – it was even possible for some outsiders to own property in the village, though the selection process for such people was still very extensive. Even then, visitors could only remain in the village for a period of time specified by the time stamp on their band or for as many hours as the permit allowed for, and any found in violation were heavily fined and imprisoned temporarily – a process law enforcement seemed to have remarkably little control over.

As it would turn out, the guns were for any beggars that happened to make it through the gateway or, in a few rare cases that naturally did not have a happy ending, over the wall. There was virtually no tolerance for anyone in direct violation of their establishment, and as the land surrounding the village was all privately owned, dirt cheap marshland as long as they weren't killed there was little legal favor for the trespassers.

The streets of the village were rather unremarkable for how highly held Hinamizawa was by those that had talked about it – it was really no different from any other small suburb, at least on the surface. The ground was hallowed, but perhaps those that dreamed of walking upon it held it in greater regard than those that actually did.

Eventually the limousine pulled over to the side of the road, the other cars driving past it further down the road. The other men in the vehicle showed visible signs of confusion, but the limping man reassured them all with a wave of his hand.

"The rain's starting to let up. Why don't you all get some air? I can't be the only one starting to choke in here." He spoke, the other men save for the driver eyeing him curiously.

"Uh, sure thing, but aren't you coming with us?" The man with the eye patch asked.

"I'll be fine with the window down. Too much work for me to move around on this leg." He replied with a wry smile.

His excuse had been fairly weak, but everyone except for the driver took his words as an order and made their way outside. Eventually one of the rear doors opened and a woman with dark hair wearing a white kimono slid into the back of the limousine next to him, making no eye contact whatsoever.

"I'm glad my boys were able to take the hint." He mused, lighting a cigarette from a small box hidden behind the false bottom of the glove compartment. "None of them gave you any trouble, right?"

"I was not harmed." She spoke curtly.

"And no one saw, you correct?"

"I didn't need your men to draw all the attention, but I'm grateful for it regardless."

"Good. So I take it everything's ready on your end?"

"I was under the impression you'd be bringing more men with you." She ignored his question.

"I only need five to do what we have to do. The rest are here in case someone tries to throw us out between now and the seventh."

"And you're certain that no one from Roppongi is going to follow you here?"

"Majima doesn't have that kind of muscle anymore – it'll all be fine, I promise. Now, what I'd like to ask you about has to do with something _you_ happened to promise _me_."

Reaching into her kimono she produces the parcel in question – a leather gas mask, very apparently thrown together from bits and pieces of a hazmat suit, the tears in the fabric sloppily sewn together, just barely keeping the straps in place. The twin filters were packed with some sort of resin and the openings for the eyes were covered with blurry glass, effectively blinding anyone that would wear it. There didn't seem to be any way of ensuring that the interior was air tight, either.

"She was five when she made this." She said with a sigh.

"Certainly seems eerie enough."

"The mouthpiece is filled with a mixture of ground up marijuana and cinnamon, the attachment contains pesticides and toilet cleaner acid. You turn the knob on the side to start the filter. You can light the marijuana through the mouthpiece, there's enough of a gap between the pores."

"Hydrogen sulfide, eh? How long do I get with this?"

"Eleven minutes. There's just enough in there for one person and one use. If you manage to use it incorrectly you'll have to find new materials on your own."

"The Chemtrail Sight… I wonder, just what sort of madness gave birth to such a thing?"

"So I've fulfilled my end –"

"Again, don't worry. I'll see to it that your little witch stays safe."

"Very well then." She opened the side door once more and slid out of the vehicle.

"You should reconsider your current course." He called out to her before she was out of earshot.

She replied with an amused grunt. "Is there any point in telling me this now?"

"I'll tell you right now, since it's unlikely that we'll ever meet again – it's not the kind of fate you're making it out to be."

She disappeared after that.

"What a woman." The driver remarked.

"Certainly – you'll only ever find her kind in a place like this."

"Alright, so I've gotta know now – what was the point of holding me here to listen to all of that?"

"The more familiar you are with the strange, the easier it'll be to deal with everything else in life."

"We're still rolling with the life lessons, huh?" The driver sighed.

"You did abandon your family to join us. You might almost be a man, but there's a bit more to the 'almost' in this case than you're likely used to. Say – you have a little sister, don't you?"

"Yeah. I showed you a picture of her, remember?"

"Ah, right – now, say for instance I told you that you had to put this mask on and survive past eleven minutes, or I'd have someone kill her. Would you do it?"

"Well, scientifically it's not supposed to be possible, right?"

"According to what the lady just said, no."

"Well then, if those were my instructions I'd go ahead and do it."

"Why?"

"You didn't bother to explain what you mean by 'survive'. Neither did she, actually. Nor is there a case that describes what 'past eleven minutes' is supposed to entail exactly. Theoretically I could be 'alive' long past eleven minutes, or for an instant past eleven minutes."

"Ah yes, you've got it – things like this are all a matter of perspective. 'Surviving' for 'over eleven minutes' – that is the key to unlocking the sort of truth this mask holds."

"Sounds like magic." He chuckled, fixing his hair. "Of course, even if I did put the mask on, there's no guarantee that you'd ever fulfill your end of the bargain anyway. And it's not like I'd ever be able to do anything about it. Not much value for twisting words when you're dead, unless the devil has patience for that sort of thing."

"That, my friend, is why there's a silver lining to all things, words most of all – nothing is entirely ambiguous. And ambiguity itself is merely the perception of a lack of information. Always remember that."

Not long after the entourage returned to the limousine and the group was off on its way again, the woman having vanished much like a ghost into the haze of the quiet village.

Before too long the Sonozaki Estate, one of the three major landmarks of the village, had come into view. The path they had to drive had turned to dirt, but fortunately there was more than enough space on the theoretical sides of the road just outside the estate's borders for the vehicles to park. The estate itself was a five one story building complex, with the exception of the two story main building that was just ahead of them. A bald man was standing at the entrance, initially trying to shoo them away before one of the men explained who they were, at which point they were led inside.

The interior of the main building was poorly lit and reeked of incense – it was clear that the residents were already committed to the start of their mourning period despite how death had yet to visit. Just past the entrance were a number of women, all with the same shade of green hair wearing identical black kimonos, some lining the walls, prostrated towards the center of the room with two waving the aforementioned incense, some standing around the center of the room talking quietly, even more women passing in and out of the room through the hallways. The moment the twelve of them attempted to approach the group the atmosphere became very tense, several of the women scrambling away almost reflexively.

"Who are these people?" One however did not – she instead approached them defiantly. She was an older looking woman, perhaps in her forties, with the air of a high ranking official. If he didn't know better he'd have assumed she was the head of the family.

"The visitors from Roppongi." The man that had led them in spoke, clearing his throat. "They have made a prior arrangement to discuss unfinished business with Oryou-sama."

"I've heard of no such arrangement. What family are these men supposed to represent?"

"Please allow me to explain." He pushed forward from the back of the pack until he stood before her, his legs shaking from the stress. "We are representatives of the Majima family from Tokyo. The Sonozaki family has made a series of deals with our executives in the past – up until now the unresolved state of several of them were ignored out of respect, but we've reached the point where action of some kind needs to be taken –"

"If there is any business you need to resolve, speak to our lawyers in Okinomiya at a later date. This is a home – not the turf of some lieutenant."

"The least you could do is show this man some respect in your own home –" One of his associates nearly shouted, but was silenced with a wave of his employer's hand.

"Surely we can come to some kind of an understanding here –"

"Send them away – mother is in no condition to be seen by guests at this time. We owe these people nothing – if Majima wants to extort money out of the head of this family he must come here himself."

His eyes lit up at those words – so this was the supposedly forsaken daughter of the head of the family who was passed over for one of her children.

"You do realize that rejecting our request is going to cause you more harm than good in the long run, right?" One of the other men spoke up. "This is foolishness."

"Ah, wait a moment." He cut in, much to the surprise of his companions. "You must be Sonozaki Akane, right?"

She turned back and returned his polite inquiry with a glare, which he took to be an affirmation. "I assure you, we come here entirely in peace and with the upmost respect – I don't intend to extort _anything_ out of your family, and most certainly not out of your mother. I'm aware that the head's appearance must be less than ideal, even for a woman at that age, and I know that you must want what's best for her at such a critical time – but there are several essential matters she is obligated to address that aren't quite as simple as funds changing hands. Please at least grant me the audience with the head as was requested. I have made arrangements to spend the next several days in this village and fully intend to mourn with the rest of your family upon her passing, but if you wish I can arrange for my associates to leave the premises for the duration of our business here."

"And who are you to come to this place to mourn? What sort of relation do you have with the head of this family?"

"A peculiar one. We've never met in person, though she has had quite an impact on my affairs thus far. The fact that my arrangement was agreed to in the first place is –"

"Again, I've heard of no such arrangement. If you can't provide any proof of your association with this family, you won't receive any special treatment from this house." As she made her claim another much younger looking woman stood up and whispered something into her ear. Her face visibly twisted for a moment, which was all the evidence he needed to know exactly what she'd just been told.

"Good, it seems that we're both on the same page now."

She stared at him dumbfounded for a few seconds more before storming out of the room, the other men quietly chuckling as she made her exit. Their superior however silenced them all with a violent motion of his hand.

"I apologize for Akane-san's disposition, these past few days have not been kind to her." The remaining woman said with a courteous bow.

"I understand entirely. We won't take any offense from her words." He eyed the young woman for a moment before continuing. "You must be one of Akane's daughters, aren't you?"

She looked at him awkwardly for a few moments before nodding her head.

"Ah I see – I heard there were twins. Let me guess – you would be Mion, then?"

"Not quite – I'm Shion. Mion is my older sister." She said, returning his friendly inquiry with a small smile.

She seemed well bred enough – but there was a certain lack of emotion in her eyes that was present even in the other silent women in this room. Just from the way she stood with her hunched shoulders it was clear that she was under great restraint. He didn't blame her – you could cut the tension in this building with a knife and in all likelihood she wasn't a very strong person to begin with.

He smiled warmly at her. "Ah, Shion. I see." He then moved closer to her, placing a hand on her shoulder and whispering something into her ear. She audibly gasped and her eyes widened.

"Now then –" He continued moving past her without giving her the opportunity to verbalize any kind of reply. "Where might I find your grandmother?"

"T-Through those doors and down the hall to the left… She'll be behind the first door."

"Understood. The rest of you stay out here."

"You sure, boss?"

"Relax. What more could she do to me?"

With that he disappeared into the hallway, the girl clearly contemplating following after him before one of the other men, notably shorter and with notably brighter colored hair than all the others – the limousine driver – approached her.

"Hey, it'll be alright. Oyabun'll set everything straight."

"O-Oyabun?" Her eyes shot towards the hallway again, but the man gripped her shoulder before she could do anything else. "But I thought he was -"

"Don't worry, all this shit will make sense eventually." He said with a toothy grin. "I'd be more worried about your mom if I were you."

* * *

What a horrible dream.

An endless shore that stretched on for eternity. Wet, red sand, littered with shells and sharp, jutting rocks. Howling wind and scalding hot rain that weathered the very bedrock of the world. A pale sky, enshrouded in a sea of twisting, spiraling clouds. And the violent, tempestuous sea, that devoured all that would so much as gaze into its depths, and spat out only what was left of the poor fools that did.

And he was there, and so was she – he, splashed with blood and holding his bloodied axe over his head, and she, just beneath him, her stomach ripped open covered in gore with her small intestine bulging through the gap.

As was always the case he couldn't remember anything – all he knew was that she was there, bleeding away and he was standing there his mouth agape with the proverbial smoking gun in his hands. He couldn't understand himself. He had no intention of hurting her – he couldn't come up with a reason of any kind. Yet here he was, about to carve out another piece of her dying flesh.

And as was always the case he couldn't bring himself to swing downward again – it was too mortifying. Of all the people in the world why would he have gone after this girl? What could she have possibly done to him?

Why did she have to die? Why did anyone have to hurt her? She didn't deserve this. She hasn't done anything wrong.

No, no she hasn't. She's never done anything wrong. Everyone loves her – he loves her, too.

 _Don't die. Don't die. Don't die. Don't die._

Her eyes open lazily and she looks up at him. She smiles warmly through her pain.

She whispers his name, barely audible with blood gushing from the corners of her mouth.

The sound of her voice rocks him at his core. "This isn't me." He says, shaking his head. "This isn't."

"Kill me."

 _She wants to die._

"I don't want to hurt you."

 _You hurt her._

"Before I hurt anyone else, please –"

 _She wants you to do it._

"You haven't done anything wrong…!"

 _That's a lie. Just another lie._

He struggled to find the words he has to convey to her – but he had no problem holding the axe above his head. Even now he still hadn't lowered it. Though he'd denied malicious intent repeatedly, he hadn't moved a muscle. But he has yet to realize it – in truth, the intent within him isn't malicious. It's something different entirely. But he couldn't understand that – he wouldn't understand that, as though he was deliberately refusing to. Even when the dream ends, he will still fail to understand.

"Why are you crying?"

"I already said I don't want to hurt you."

 _Lies._

"That's a lie."

 _The only truth._

"I don't… I don't want you to hate me."

 _What a coward._

"I could never hate you. Not ever."

Without thinking he tightens his grip on the axe. He has no reason to kill her. He is as certain of that as he is of the weapon in his hands.

"Never forget that we're best friends. Now and forever."

 _Now and forever._

Life begins. Life ends. That which has perished and been returned to the earth will inevitably become something else. In that moment he had control over the most basic process of the universe. Like discovering fire he came to the revelation that he could kill – he could manipulate that process with his own two hands. For moment it was as though he were God and a great and terrible power been thrust upon him in that instant with no explanation, no rhyme, nor reason, nor coherency. But he could only feel the pain, the pleasure – only the aspects of that madness that man could wrap its limited existence around.

 _What was your name again?  
_

No, it wasn't malice. It was lust. Humans must play God. Humans must surpass God. Even if they never truly could, just the simple feeling of being something more than human, even if only briefly was enough to drive one to madness.

 _Cain. Enkidu._

Swirling through that madness was his consciousness, and his base instincts told him to crave more of it. He needed more senses. He needed to be able to see further, deeper, understand more and more –

 _Like an animal._

Being able to take another life was only the beginning. There was certainly more – a broader perspective. A greater power. And he needed it. His heart told him nothing else in the world mattered.

 _Maru. That's – your name, my name – it's their name, too -_

And she was there too, churning and swirling in the madness that could only be described as the essence of God itself, reflected in her eyes as her life continued to slip away. She understood – she knew what it was to kill, what it signified, how it felt. But when he stared into her eyes he did not see the madness – he could see past the madness, and deep within the depths of her heart was an eldritch truth, one that no existential being should ever bear witness to. And the moment he reached that truth, the world around him began to liquefy, blending into a sloppy haze of red. Everything faded away – the shore, the sky, the dying girl, and he faded away as well.

 _No, don't wake up. Don't abandon the dream. The dream is all you have. All you are._

 _The dream is heaven. It's you that's the nightmare._

His senses all faded away but he was certain – certain that at the last moment he had swung the axe downward.

But before he can even begin to process anything beyond that, the dream ends. He finds himself lying in bed in a cold sweat, the lingering feeling of the axe in his hands and the dying face of someone he cared about all that remained. He was alone – _of course she would've gone home by now_ , he thought. Every night it was like this. He would lie awake all night if he had to – returning to that nightmare is the last thing he wanted.

He hasn't hurt anyone before. _That's a lie._ He shouldn't have a guilty conscience. _Another lie._ Even so, these dreams come to him and he hasn't the slightest clue as to why.

 _Lies. All lies. But you have to believe them._

No. The dream ends, and so do the lies.

The weight he has carried is his and his alone. It is a weight he can never remove, only lock away in the furthest corner of his mind – the part of him that wanted to hurt other people because it was fun. He wasn't a murderer, at least not yet -

No, perhaps that was a lie too. But in truth he couldn't remember if it was or not.

The feelings of guilt are too strong for someone that had merely hurt another person. The sensation he fails to resist in the dream is far too real for someone that had never experienced it before.

Yes, he'd killed someone, he decided. He just couldn't remember who.

And so he remained there, completely exhausted, left with no other option besides crying himself back to sleep, praying that the nightmare would not take him again before the morning. And, above all else, that the darkest corner of his mind would once again become the darkest corner of his mind.


	2. Tmf Wdr

_Chapter 2: Tmf Wdr_

 _June 1_ _st_ _, 1984  
The First Day_

He woke with a groan and a stretch, as he did every morning. He'd slept well the night before, and in truth the groan was associated more with the fact that he now had to actually get up and act like a functional human being, rather than a need for anything in particular.

Fortunately he had enough willpower to drag himself out of bed, proceeding to get cleaned up. He put on the same white shirt and black pants he wore every day and made his way downstairs. His mother was naturally already awake, his father and his red car were already out of sight, never to be seen again until very late that night. Sure enough breakfast was on the table, and as always he had managed to work up enough willpower at that point to eat his fill.

As usual, his mother reminded him to make lunch for himself, and with that, the average looking boy was out the door, delighted that the rain had finally stopped. And also as usual, he had to wait no more than five minutes outside his front door for the usual beaming girl with equally as brilliant orange hair to turn the corner and wave to him. A usual she'd made enough lunch for the both of them, and as usual they began their walk down the path to school.

This was Keiichi Maebara's morning – an average morning for an average person, living and average, unremarkable life filled with romantic comedy and enough cute shit to drive someone crazy.

"Say, Keiichi-kun, did you have Natsumi's leftovers for dinner last night?"

"Ah yeah, the rice was great. My mom said thanks for the cucumbers, by the way. She's shocked you found such fresh ones."

"Heehee, it's not so amazing if you know where to look." She smiled broadly. "Papa told me I should start sharing our groceries with my friends, in case you were wondering."

"Ah, good, the less crap I have to hear from that guy the better."

"Hey, that's rude, Keiichi-kun." She pouted. "Papa might not be the nicest person in the world but he always means well."

"That aside they didn't stock the grocer this week. You know if anything went missing again?"

"I dunno. Maybe Furude-san had a slow month."

He laughed. "Yeah, maybe you ate the all the flowers he actually needed."

"Hey, Natsumi was hungry! Hungry! Don't tease me about that!" She whacked him on the arm.

They kept heading down the path like that, Keiichi constantly finding new and creative ways to make his companion feel uncomfortable. They ran into the same elderly couple, Harumi and Narumi, that they did every day, and as most elderly folks did, talked about the weather and whether or not the two of them were dating yet. Eventually they came across the Sonozaki Estate, at which point a third companion would join them.

It was at this point the average morning not only diverged, but managed to go off the rails for quite a bit.

There were several black cars clogging up the short roadway, and even more in what was typically considered the estate's main courtyard. There were several men dressed in black suits hovering around those cars, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

"Maybe we should ask what's going on?" The girl squeaked nervously.

Against his better judgment he approached one of the men and talked to him.

"Hey, do you know if Mion's in there? Her friends are here to pick her up."

The man didn't so much as budge.

"Hey, can you help us or not?"

Before he knew it two of the other men started to approach them, the silence left unbroken with tension building. The man in front of him was about to grab his arm, and the girl beside him had silently moved closer and was about to put her arm on them - before someone further in suddenly made their way into the situation.

"Hey, hey, what's going on out here?" the voice came from further back.

The man just in front of him turned around and had no problem answering. "He matches the description."

The source of the voice made their way to the front of the group. It was a man with a shaved head, wearing a black hat and suit like the other men, though the dress shirt underneath was unbuttoned partially. He had a beauty mark under one of his droopy eyes – and Keiichi was _sure_ he'd seen him somewhere before.

"Woah, no, _no_ that's not him." He said with a laugh. "Hell of a resemblance, though."

"Who are you people?" The girl spoke quietly and calmly, her eyes sharp. Ah, and there she was, the brilliant flame that burns quietly. That was Natsumi Kimiyoshi, one of his best friends, in a nutshell.

"Sorry about all of that," he said with a bright smile that had a strange, childlike quality to it. "We're friends of the family. I'm Ryou. Ryou Sekiguchi. You must be Natsumi-chan, right?"

"If I go inside and talk to Mii-chan, will she tell me the same thing?" She asked, staring the man down like she wanted him dead.

"Hah, you're every bit as scary as I was told you are. Sure, I can go get her for you." His smile didn't twist even marginally.

"We'd like to talk to her ourselves all the same," Keiichi finally jumped in.

"We're sorry, but no one is allowed into the estate at this time." One of the other men spoke sternly.

The tension didn't seem like it was going anywhere until someone else pushed their way form the back of the small crowd.

"It's fine, I'm here." Emerging from behind Sekiguchi was the girl in question – she'd dyed her hair red but aside from that it was the usual Mion Sonozaki, her calm expression reassuring them both, with her bag in hand, ready to head off to school. "Hey, we're gonna be late if we screw around here any longer." she said, pushing the two along and waving to Sekiguchi as they rushed off down the road, preventing the exchange from going on any longer.

"The hell is going on in there?" Keiichi wasn't willing to act like nothing had happened at all, however. "And what the hell is up with your hair?"

"I'm not allowed to tell anyone shit right now. Sorry, Kei-chan."

"Can you at least tell me who that guy was?"

"Which guy? The only one I know anything about is Ryou."

"Do you know him from somewhere else?" Only then did Natsumi's voice return to its usual tone.

"You really need to hold yourself back a little more, Natsumi. Those guys weren't going to kill you but they would've beat the shit out of you." Mion sighed with frustration. "And no, I met him yesterday, but he's a decent guy. The rest of those suits might as well be stone walls."

"I would've been fine. I'm just worried about you, Mii-chan." Natusmi frowned, clinging to Keiichi's hand like she'd been doing ever since they took off.

"Yeah nah, I'm fine. It's Shion you should be worried about."

"Did something happen?" Natsumi nearly tugged hard enough on Keiichi's arm to dislocate it.

"Nah, just the usual shit. That idiot wasn't meant for a shitty family like ours." Mion rubbed at her eyes.

That was apparently the end of the conversation, and the three made their way to school in silence. It was a bit of a bump in their morning routine, but it wasn't anything honestly that surprising – distressed folks were rather common in Hinamizawa, though they mostly didn't turn up until much later in the day.

Keiichi arguably knew Shion the least out of their group of friends, but what he did know is that she had a very weak heart for a Sonozaki. She had a job out in Okinomiya that didn't suit her personality whatsoever. She was also prone to impulsive behavior caused by nervousness, though she always acted out very quickly and quietly. Mion complained about her often – for the time being he'd take her words at face value. Instead he tried to lose himself in his surroundings, as difficult as it was.

Hinamizawa itself was a very average looking place, at least once you'd gotten past the giant wall. He'd only been there for a little over a year but he was more than familiar enough with it to call it an average place where perfectly average people could very easily live. It had everything from small, family run convenience stores to a public school and very clean, spacious housing that was by no means as suffocating as the people that made homes out of it. In terms of population it was almost too big to be considered a village, but no one dared to question that point all that seriously.

The plant life was all well maintained, though all owned by the village itself and maintained by a selection of staff hired by the Furude family. The streets were cleaned by a similar institution, except managed by the Kimiyoshi family instead. Public safety, meanwhile, was regulated by the Sonozaki family and to some extent Furude's best built monks. They were all remarkably good at their jobs and whenever he saw any at work they possessed some inhuman quality to the way they carried themselves. It was some level of devotion he couldn't quite understand.

The usual road to the schoolhouse was closed down due to major flooding from the night before, so the group had to take a slightly less roundabout route that took them past the Furude Tower, the great symbol of Hinamizawa's religious practices that resided far to the north of the rest of the village. The area just around it was the grounds of the Furude Shrine, a clear cut area that was mostly farmland accompanied by living quarters for the shrine's nearly two dozen mikos, the shrine itself for more typical worship than the tower was meant for, and an old storehouse that was used for storing farming equipment, among other things. A decent percentage of the village's produce came from the field, though it was almost exclusively used to feed the three families and those that were willing to pay for what was considered a premium product. There was a portion the field that was used exclusively to grow flowers, planted around the tower and along the path leading to it, filling everything up to the base – it was expansive enough that you could see it from the top.

Natsumi, who had been very quiet the entire time, suddenly decided to stop at the storehouse. Noticing how happy the prospect made her Keiichi and Mion had no choice but to entertain her. They'd most certainly be late at this rate, but if their excuse was visiting the Furude grounds they could get away with it.

She excitedly knocked on the door, and when it opened she didn't waste a second tackling the person on the other side of the door.

"Oji-san!" She cried happily, nearly bringing the man to his knees.

"Good morning Natsumi-chan!" The man said with a groan, followed by hearty laughter.

He was a tall man with black hair that was about shoulder length, with bangs that were just as long and parted down the middle. More often than not he had some kind of a smile on his face, even if someone had just openly insulted him. This was Takumi Furude, the father of another one of Keiichi's close friends who actually lived in the storehouse on his own. Natsumi called him 'oji-san' for some reason she never bothered explaining.

"Ah, I see she pulled you two along again this morning. Don't you all have school right now? Come to think of it, Rika _did_ leave a long time ago..." He smiled knowingly.

"It'll be fine." Mion smiled. She was fond of him as well, as were most people that had spent even just a few minutes in his presence.

"Hm... Is this the sort of thing you've been teaching these two, Natsumi-chan?"

"K-Keiichi-kun and Mii-chan are the delinquents, I swear!" She whined.

"So did they hire you any help for the summer?" Mion tried to move things along a little faster.

"Man, I wish I were so lucky." He shrugged his shoulders. "We're adding one more field next week, but some social workers from Okinomiya are going to be planting there, so we just have to till the soil. It shouldn't take that much more effort than usual, as long as I've got you kids helping out. "

"Ah, yeah, that's right." Keiichi sighed. It was almost that time of year again, when Mion's school based club would spend three days a week working on these fields.

"Heh, I know that sound." Mion teased, "It's the sound Kei-chan makes when he wants to work a double shift."

"So you can go goof off with your sister? No thanks." He'd gotten better at hurling comebacks in Mion's face – in some weird way he was proud of it.

For the most part, the planting process was handled by this man alone. The mikos weren't in the best physical shape to do anything beyond pushing dirt around, and what monks that there were spent most of their time guarding the border, both by the gate and up in the mountains by the swamp, where most of them actually lived. Very few of them put much, if any work into managing the fields. Most of the work fell to Takumi.

To make matters stranger, he was not only the head farmhand but the husband of the principle shrine maiden, who spent her days in the Furude Tower, out of sight from most people. As such, he wasn't obligated to take this matter into his own hands but did so anyway. He was the sort of man that held hard work and just rewards above most other things. But for a man with such a position, living in a storehouse was rather extreme – Keiichi hadn't the slightest clue what the circumstances were but they were surely complicated. Or, knowing this man the way he did, it might've just been personal preference.

"So did you kids just stop by to say hello?"

"Oh, _oh!_ " Natsumi suddenly started shuffling through her bag before pulling out a small boxed lunch. "Here you go!" She handed the box to him, with another one of her sweet smiles.

He opened the box and inside was a well prepared lunch, the main feature of which was salmon roe. "Ah, you really didn't have to make this for me, you know, I was just joking the other day."

"Papa heard me talk about it and thought it would be a good idea, so I made it last night. You weren't going to eat sunflower seeds _again_ today, were you?"

"No, I can manage a healthy diet on my own, but -"

"You might want to reconsider turning her down, pops." Mion cut in. "She's just going to make you a bigger lunch tomorrow. That's just how it goes."

"Ah, I guess that's a good point. Thank you, Natsumi-chan, I'll savor it." He said with a polite bow. "But seriously, you kids really need to get to school. Chie-sensei was in a foul mood when I saw her last night, I doubt she's defused by now."

"Shit, you should've said something earlier!" Mion suddenly started panicking. "We'll be around again tomorrow, you'd better eat that lunch, now."

"Ah, actually, there's one thing -" He interrupted them as they were about to leave. "Keiichi-kun, could you actually stop by some time tomorrow night, preferably before midnight? You won't have to worry about the curfew; there's just something I'd like you to help me with."

"Sure thing." He agreed immediately, though he couldn't help but be curious.

"Why can't I help?" Natsumi cocked her head inquisitively.

"Because _you_ have work all night." Keiichi reminded her.

"So does Keiichi-kun! That's no fair!" She pouted.

"Sorry Natsumi-chan, this is something I can only ask another man to do."

" _Woah_ , that sounds steamy." Mion joked, before turning to leave, ignoring whatever retort came out of Keiichi's mouth.

"I can probably manage sometime after eleven. That sound alright Natsumi?"

She nodded reluctantly in reply.

"Alright then. Have a good day, you three." Takumi bid them farewell.

Keiichi had to pull Natsumi by her arm to get her out of the storeroom, but very quickly they were back on the path to school, the elder Furude waving them off and most of the tension from the early morning having finally dispersed. It was rather easy to calm yourself down in Takumi's presence, given how the man could put you to sleep with just the sound of his voice.

On their way off the shrine grounds, Keiichi noticed the faint impression of tire tracks on the grass. The average person might not have taken it to mean much, but driving a vehicle even within a hundred feet of the tower was one of the largest offenses you could commit. He chose not to bring it up, instead commenting on how no one had pointed out Mion's hair color thus far. The rest of the walk to school was filled with that usual sort of laughter, and Natsumi occasionally checking in with them from the far reaches of her own little world.

It had started off on a very peculiar note, but it seemed as though the course had corrected itself, and thus another perfectly average day continued.

* * *

It was finally time for their coveted lunch break, a very small but nonetheless treasured window of forty minutes between the first four hours of constant schooling and the next three. The schoolhouse was a three floor structure with the children broken up primarily by age group, but everyone had lunch outside in the yard, where the younger students frolicked about and the elder children did the usual complaining about their families. During this time Keiichi and his friends gathered together by the lockers on the third floor where he, Natsumi and Mion had class and had the privilege of eating their lunch in one of the classrooms.

From the second floor came Satoko Houjo and Rika Furude, who were just recently promoted to the second tier of students having turned thirteen just this past year, with their own lunches, Rika's packed by one of the shrine's lesser mikos and Satoko's packed presumably by her mother. Typically Shion Sonozaki, Mion's slightly younger sister, would have joined them as well, but she was absent from school that day.

The five of them constituted the bulk of Mion's after school club, which as of late had become less about playing the exotic games it was founded for and more about helping the poor and sick around the village, though most of the time Mion's own family gave them the whole bureaucratic red tape treatment and they ended up performing some simple task like helping Takumi Furude with his farm work. Keiichi had been more or less drafted into the club very shortly after his arrival, but enjoyed his time in it all the same.

"So I was thinking we could play some old maid today – whoever ends up in last place has to clear out all the basements. Make sure you wear rubber gloves, _Kei-chan_." Mion wasted no time in laying down her plan for the day.

It just so happened that today they would be going around the village and searching for damage done by flooding. The way a lot of the houses were built, the cellars were very prone to flooding. A few families in these parts of town used their cellars as living areas and had carpets that could absorb some of the water, but even then the flooding was usually bad and wet carpet needed to be treated with hardware that most villagers had no access to.

"If it's Keiichi-san, he should have to clean the power generator." Satoko exclaimed, her eyes glistening mischievously.

"You have no clue how long that would actually take, do you?" As usual Keiichi would shoot her outbursts down with ease. It wasn't always that easy, however.

"Satoko's just being mean," Rika chimed in as she was chewing her food. "We're not allowed to go that far up the mountain anyway."

"They'd make an exception for you, wouldn't they?" Mion sounded a bit too hopeful – then again it was not a surprise that she'd find some kind of enjoyment from watching him scrub away with a toothbrush all day.

"You're not _really_ thinking about cleaning the power generator as a punishment game, are you? That's not realistic at all. Can't we just do the same cute outfit shit we always do?"

"Hm? Is Kei-chan really that eager to cross dress?" She said with a grin.

"What does Natsumi want as the punishment game?" He turned towards the girl who was staring off into space, ignoring Mion completely.

"...the pad is in One." she murmured, her eyes still entirely unfocused.

"Come again?"

"H-Huh?" She suddenly came back to reality and her head jerked in his direction.

"The punishment game. Cast your vote."

"O-Oh, I want to see Keiichi-kun do something cute!" She said flatly with a smile.

That made three of them that were all preparing for the same outcome. He wanted to sigh, but held it back. Apparently his disgust was showing on his face since Rika stopped chewing her food to lean across the desks they'd pushed together to pat him on the head. He'd have to come out on top today and prove them wrong.

Satoko let out her usual chuckle. "It looks like Keiichi-san's fate is sealed."

She was feeling particularly high and mighty as of late since she'd caught a serious growth spurt recently. At one point she barely passed his waist – she was now well on her way to reaching his shoulders. In fact she could already make it there if she stood on her toes.

"Heh, alright, but if any of you end up in last there's a swimsuit with your name on it." He proclaimed with confidence.

"...Hey do you want any of this?" Rika asked Natsumi, pushing her lunch box filled only with vegetables

"You really should eat your veggies, Rika-chan. Come to think of it I've never seen you eat any ever!" Natsumi chided.

"I'm a carnivore." She said with a shrug.

"Hey, don't ignore me, dammit!" He continued vying for attention like that for the remainder of their lunch break while the others had very normal, polite conversations with each other and acted like he wasn't there.

During their club activity he performed rather poorly, but didn't end up in last – however, he'd stretched out the swimsuit so much when he'd worn it previously that none of the girls were able to put it on without breaking regulations. He considered his victory short, but sweet.

* * *

 _The First Night_

He entered his room around ten o'clock that night. Immediately across from the door was a note staked to the wall with a knife. It had been there that morning, but he'd chosen to ignore it. After all, _that business_ was not the business of the Keiichi Maebara that went about kindly greeting people and having fun with his friends during the day. It was instead for the man of the night, who he merely shared a mind and body with.

Though perhaps it wasn't that he'd 'chosen' to ignore it, but rather that he'd been 'allowed' to ignore it.

The note was the usual command with the usual complaint.

 _For the eyes of Keiichi Maebara_

 _Please report to the Firehouse at 11:00 P.M. for mandatory community service._

 _We will not tolerate further failures to report for duty this month, further offenses will result in multiple fines of increasing degree._

 _Sincerely yours, The Powers That Be_

The first time he'd woken up to one of these notes he'd nearly had a heart attack, but ever since he'd become rather numb to the notion of someone sneaking into his room in the middle of the night just to tack a note to the wall. The more time he spent going out at night like this, the more apparent it was that he, along with everyone else in the village that wasn't named Sonozaki, Furude, or Kimiyoshi had virtually no control over their own destinies.

Digging through the very back of his closet he pulled out his uniform.

It was a typical fireman's garb complete with the typical yellow and black pattern. The only difference between it and any other were the bloodstains that had long since become part of the outfit. Sure enough, he had no idea whose blood it was – after all it had already been like this when he'd obtained it.

After suiting up he got down on his knees and felt around the space underneath his bed. From it he pulled out an axe, with a smooth wooden grip and a sharp, well maintained head that looked as pristine as it did the previous night and the night before that.

Axe in hand, he left his house and went off into the night. Along his path he spotted many familiar faces from his morning route – but unlike their glowing politeness from not even twelve hours ago, what they showed him now was fear, going out of their way to avoid him or hasten their pace.

His path took him into the main section of town, the tower eclipsing the moon and covering the road in darkness. He doesn't need a light to see, however – he knew this path perhaps even better than he knew his walk to school. He soon reached his destination – the old Okinomiya Volunteer Firehouse, an old establishment that had long since been abandoned by those that had built it. All that remained of it now was a run down, hollow shell of what it once was that served as the nest of the Hinamizawa Fire Department.

He made his way to the front door and knocked five times. He was returned three knocks in reply, after which he knocked another four times. The door opened and Natsumi of all people came flying out, wrapping her arms around his neck and swinging herself around to regain her footing, much like she'd done to poor Takumi earlier that day. Were he not wearing the two ton tunic he would've been toppled easily – she was fairly light, but she didn't hold back even in the slightest.

"You came!" She cried happily.

"Uh, yeah." He sighed. She did this every single night. Without fail.

"Come on, come on, we're almost ready! Kijima-chan bought a new bowtie, you have to see it, it's just so cute!" She pulled him into the building.

The interior was a series of cramped hallways, with most of the rooms in an unusable state. The only exceptions were the small lounge on the top floor and the garage, which incidentally was where she was pulling him towards.

Inside was the usual crowd, and the usual vehicle – the Kimiyoshi family's prized fire truck, passed down from parent to child for three generations now. It looked like it had just been rolled out of manufacturing – at least on the outside – and had a coat of fresh, green paint, with the additional cutesy doodles of animals Natsumi, the theoretical owner, had spray painted on over the years. The first man that came into view was Noro Urushibara, a tall, thin man with black hair kept in a ponytail, wearing a white oni mask. He was curt, rude, and very deadly – he'd once thrown a knife at and successfully pulverized a squirrel in a tree, mistaking it for a curfew breaking child hiding in a tree. Not only did he act like a ninja but he was dressed like one, too, turtleneck included.

The other was Shiki Kijima, the man that put the two tons into the two ton tunic. He was bald, blown up like a balloon, very nearly spilling out of his uniform and surely hadn't exercised a day in his life, but you'd never notice how fat he was until you got past his face, which was scrunched together so tightly it was a wonder he could breathe through his nose. His eyes were the sole exception – they were oddly spaced apart and he had no pupils, only pale sclera across their entirety. He was hideous, and would've probably been declared legally blind in any other part of the world and maybe caged for scientific research, but in Hinamizawa he was the Kimiyoshi family's designated driver, and naturally was currently cackling like a madman from behind the wheel of the truck. The most terrifying thing is that he was damn good at it. And sure enough he was wearing the bowtie Natsumi had mentioned, though it could only just barely be seen sticking out from under the rolls of fat.

The four of them together were the sole members of the Kimiyoshi Fire Department, with Natsumi, the future head of the Kimiyoshi house, as their leader. But surprisingly enough four was more than enough to get the job done.

"Hey, Maebara." Noro greeted him without so much as looking in his general direction, instead fishing through some drawers, likely in search of something to stab someone with.

"Where are we going tonight?"

"Natsumi knows the way. We'll defer to her. You know, like we've been doing every single night." Keiichi was rather amazed that he'd actually gotten a response out of him.

"Right..."

"Okay everyone, I'm ready!" Natsumi declared from the other side of the room, having changed into her own uniform.

Which, for the record, was a much slimmer version of the suit the men wore, but with no jacket, a black top with no shoulders and roll up sleeves. Essentially she'd removed all the elements of the outfit that would actually protect someone from a fire – but she did wear her hat which on her head came off as adorable.

"We're ready to go, just give the word." Noro said, once again with as little bodily movement as possible.

"I gave Kijima-chan the directions already. You remember them right?"She cocked her head to the side so she could see the man in the driver's seat.

His response was rather garbled, but he did make an 'uh huh' sound of some kind.

"Perfect! Then let's go." On her command the three of them entered the truck and with that they were off into the night, left at the mercy of Kijima's driving ability.

They made their way across town with the usual rickety noises. The interior was rife with torn leather and open panels – when he first joined he was almost certain that it had been stolen, but apparently the Kimiyoshi family had acquired it from some external connection a very long time ago. All the way Noro kept on wiping his tonfa. Natsumi, meanwhile, just sat there very patiently and smiled at him whenever their eyes met. All Keiichi ever did during these long rides was stare at his reflection in the window and try as hard as he could to ignore the stench of kerosene and burnt rubber coming from the back of the truck.

He could never succeed, of course – not with Kijima purposefully hitting every bump on the road to satisfy his own lunacy. The first night he went out on a job with the others, Kijima nearly ran over a citizen that had broken curfew – the only reason he ever stopped short was because Natsumi threatened to cut his throat if he didn't. And he was supposed to have been Catholic before he came here.

The street they pull over on is familiar to him – after all, he passes it every day on his walk to school. He knew the villagers that lived there almost by name. He would have to make himself scarce this evening – otherwise he wouldn't be able to look his neighbors in the eye ever again. And, sure enough, the residence they pulled over in front of was just as familiar – it was the home of the old couple, Harumi and Narumi, that greeted them every morning.

Kijima hopped out of the driver's side with great enthusiasm, wasting no time in hooking up a hose to the nearby fire hydrant. As usual Keiichi reminded him that they might not need to put out a fire, but he ignored him as usual.

As is always the case, Natsumi took point and started banging on the front door of the accused household as hard as she could. Sure enough, no one answered, and on top of that the lights were off. The villagers aren't stupid – they're well aware that only the fire department could be out and about at this time of night. If these two were wise enough, they would've cleared out of town by then – but they were too loyal to their neighbors to do that sort of thing. They were likely just in hiding.

"You're up, Keiichi-kun," She said sweetly.

Although heavy with his conscience, the axe in Keiichi's hands tore through the door at Natsumi's command. It was never over in one swing – he always had to hack at the door multiple times and from more than one angle. With how often he did this – and every night he was called out Natsumi made him do this – he'd learned how to target the lock first, then the hinges. Night after night he'd always convince himself that this was the extent of his involvement. _I just get the door open. I don't hurt anyone, I don't steal anyone's shit. This is alright. They know the rules. They choose to break them._ But eventually the door came down, and Natsumi pat him on the head in approval. All it does is reassure him even further.

He took one step into the house, surveyed his surroundings before Noro cut in front of him and charged off into the darkness. The others follow suit – strewn about the floor of the tightly packed entrance were chunks of wood and plaster, along with only a single pair of shoes.

They moved into the living area quickly and quietly, with Natsumi moving fast enough to catch up to Noro and restrain him. They came upon the shrine dedicated to the deceased, covered with an exotic velvet cloth – before anyone had the opportunity to smash or set anything on fire, Keiichi knelt down in front and examined the two photographs left on the small altar. One was an image of a young boy, no older than twelve with brown hair, labeled 'Narumi'. The other was in black and white, depicting an even younger looking girl, who according to the faded label was named "Reina".

"You sure we have the right house?" He asked, turning to Natsumi. "Not seeing anything illegal going on here."

He was mostly objecting because the idea of doing this to someone he knew more than just in passing didn't settle with him at all. He knew it wouldn't really get him anywhere.

He almost stopped mid sentence when he got a look at her face, however. She was staring at the shrine intently, her expression stern and emotionless. He supposed that it was about that time of night, but her gaze was somehow even more murderous in its intent than usual. He could tell that she wanted nothing more than to smash the shrine to pieces, but even so she restrained herself.

"They wouldn't leave anything out in the open like this," Noro replied on her behalf. "These folks aren't fools. They've been around long enough to know all the tricks."

Without even waiting for the exchange to finish, Natsumi went off into the house on her own, her colorful attitude having faded away completely – there was something about this place, that shrine in particular, that was eating away at her, but as was to be expected Keiichi hadn't the slightest clue as to what.

The rest of the group was stalled by a rather slim doorway that Kijima's rotund figure was unable to pass through easily – by the time they caught up with her, she'd already made her way to the bedroom, turned the lights on and had started overturning the whole room.

Keiichi's heart sank when he spotted an overturned Celtic cross made of silver by the demolished nightstand and what appeared to be a Bible tucked in the space underneath it.

"Still think we've got the wrong place now?" Noro commented from over his shoulder.

"Still, it seems like there's no one home." Keiichi ignored him.

"Judging by the entrance the husband is probably out," Natsumi spoke, her voice devoid of emotion and her language devoid of care. "The wife must be hiding still. Kijima-kun, check under the house."

That line stung Keiichi particularly. After all, just this morning she'd called her 'Harumi-chan,' despite the age gap, like she always did because it always made the old woman laugh.

Without a word the walking marshmallow stumbled into the room and, taking a deep breath, arched himself backwards before swinging his whole body as far forward as possible – he hit the floor face first, the sheer force of the impact forcing his whole head through the floorboards. The sudden impact was accompanied by a muffled scream that made Keiichi's heart skip a beat.

"I don't see anyone," Kijima remarked from under the floorboards. "It's too dark."

"Did you bring a flashlight with you?" Natsumi asked sweetly. More often than not she babied Kijima despite how much older than her he was.

"Nah. Diddn' think about it." A few moments of squirming later, he reported back. "There's a draft. By the bed."

Wasting no time, Natsumi dragged the western bed across the room and very quickly found a series of loose floorboards. Sure enough, there was a small set of stairs leading downward into a cellar. She proceeded down by herself, and very quickly the shrieking started again, this time a lot more audible.

Natsumi emerged with the cowering, shivering form of Harumi, dragged along roughly by the arm.

"There's a place of worship downstairs." She spoke.

"Anything good down there?" Noro asked while Kijima stared at her pleadingly.

"Nothing but. Burn it all down." The moment Natsumi gave her order Kijima squealed with delight and practically skipped out of the room.

"Natsumi-chan, please! Keiichi-kun, talk some sense into her!" Harumi started begging, as the elderly folks tended to at this point.

"We'll leave the cellar completely intact," Natsumi decided. "Make it seem like we attacked them blindly. We can probably draw out the husband and some of their co-conspirators that way."

"I can think of at least ten people off the top of my head that won't let you walk out of your house without a few missing limbs if you took it that far." Keiichi warned her.

But she didn't care in the slightest. "Then let them try. Make more arrests that way."

He was left dumbstruck by how cold and ruthless her words were – even for being this nighttime version of Natsumi at the moment she was acting incredibly irrational.

"Hey, think about this a little more -"

But before he could even finish his thought Noro drew a blade from his coat and skimmed the skin on his neck with it – had Natsumi not stopped him short mere moments before it may have drawn blood.

"It's okay. Keiichi-kun is allowed to have his opinion." Natsumi said with a much more levelheaded sound to her voice. "Harumi-san will give us a confession. That should take care of any problems we could have, okay?"

Keiichi couldn't object to that, especially with Noro's killing intent out in the open, so with a quick smile Natsumi pulled Harumi through the house towards the door, passing the small shrine on the way. At that moment Harumi broke away and clung to the picture of Reina.

"Please, Natsumi-chan, please let this go, just this once – think of poor Reina! No one to remember her, not even her own family – if you do this she won't have any place left! Don't you understand?!" the old woman wailed on her knees.

Natsumi glared at her, gritting her teeth. Noro, who had been standing behind her until then, backed away just in time as she went into a frenzy, stomping on the small shrine over and over until it splintered and collapsed. She pried the picture frame from Harumi's hands and gazed at the image of the smiling girl for a few moments before snapping the frame and tearing the picture in half with her naught but her hands.

"I don't know who you're talking about." She hissed at Harumi, who had broken into tears. "There's no 'Reina'."

With that she pulled out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. She lit one, brought it close to her lips, but didn't smoke it before just letting it fall from her hands. The cigarette landed on the fabric covering the shrine, which quickly caught fire. Harumi moved to put it out but Noro pulled her back – kicking and screaming she was drawn out of the house as the others, including Keiichi, pulled out their own lighters and moved about the house, setting anything and everything they could on fire.

Out on the street Harumi was held down on her knees, facing the growing conflagration that was once her home. And all the fire did was grow and grow, devouring all in its path. When her eyes met Keiichi's then the pleading look was gone – all that was left was a hollow, empty stare. And all he could do was continue to tell himself – _She broke the law. This isn't my fault._

 _That's a lie._

And Natsumi, who noticed the rift in his heart from watching the wailing woman's life change forever, merely stood next to him and pat him on the head, further reinforcing that justification. He gripped the axe harder and swore to himself that he'd hold onto that belief for a little longer this time.

The ultimate point of all of this was fairly simple. The Kimiyoshi Fire Department went around during curfew hours at night breaking into homes that were suspected of housing contraband, and upon finding hard evidence that the owners had done so, made them regret it. This was their role in this village – stabilizing the culture of Hinaizawa, ever so steeped in its traditions, which mattered more to everyday life than most other things. And so dissenters, regardless of age or background, were punished severely. And as of late, dissenters had become vermin, small Christian shrines being exposed all across the village at an alarming rate.

Belief in Oyashiro-sama had become more of a law than anything else, but it was a law that the three ruling parties of the village, and many who had grown up in the village and come to despise the outside world mandated. It was Keiichi's job to assist in the process of maintaining this law every night a call came in that only Natsumi, the future head of the Kimiyoshi family, was permitted to take. And if he didn't follow her blindly, he and his family would suffer the consequences.

None of it changed the fact that there was a third party spreading Christianity in the shadows that had yet to reveal itself. But _for now_ the spread was limited to a minority, though not a particularly well defined one. For the time being the brute force tactic still worked. Though knowing both sides of Natsumi as well as he did, effectiveness wasn't an immediate concern of the Fire Department.

Once the house had burned down in its entirety and what was left of the fire was contained, they returned to the firehouse, throwing Harumi into one of several cramped closet spaces that served as a cell, which she would be locked in the darkness of for a mandatory sixteen hour period. After that, they didn't care what she did – in almost all cases the initial home invasion was enough to dishearten blacklist violators along with those peripheral to them and prevent them from lashing out ever again. She might warn her currently missing husband to steer clear, but Noro would keep watch at the residence for two whole days, and anyone that came close to the rubble would be brought in without question.

But for Keiichi, this was the point where he was allowed to turn a blind eye to everything and go home. He wouldn't get any angry notes from the so called Powers That Be if he skipped out at this point. And so that was precisely what he did – it was nearly one in the morning, but it wasn't as though he was going to be getting any real amount of sleep anyway.

At the beginning he would withdraw much earlier than this, and receive a note. Some nights he simply fell asleep too early, and would receive a note. Despite how often he was threatened, the note writers were uncharacteristically forgiving, seemingly resetting their counter for the number of offenses he'd made whenever he fulfilled his duty. By now he was numbed to all of it, and knew exactly how often he needed to show up when a call came in and how far into things he could take off. There was a neat, very well defined pattern to all of it, and he was willing to work within the confines of that pattern.

His walk home is much more sluggish, and almost deliberately so. In this mind this is what constituted resting. He couldn't sleep at night all that much anymore, and he couldn't exactly take a day or two off from school lest his family be put through a lot of unnecessary trouble, and so this was the only downtime he had.

He was about halfway along before he encountered another person – a boy about half his height that nearly turned tail and ran before he saw his face.

"Oh, boss. Thank god." The boy sighed with relief, fixing his glasses.

Daiki Tomita – one of the boys from Satoko's grade. Short and scrawny for his age, he stood out like a sore thumb amongst the other budding teenagers in that group. Incidentally he had a huge crush on Satoko, which made this particular encounter fairly ironic. For awhile Tomita had been looking up to him as a role model – not because of the whole fire department aspect, but because the previous summer he'd instructed him on how to pick up girls.

"Hey, what's the big idea? You know you're not -"

"I just had to go for a walk. Mom and Dad got into another fight and I couldn't sleep." He suddenly bent at the waist and put his hands together. "Please don't tell Natsumi, I'll do anything you want -"

"Hey, it's alright, I'm off duty now, just calm down and head on back, alright? If I was _anyone_ else you wouldn't get off easy."

"Yeah, I know... Hey, you went home with Satoko today, didn't you?"

He changed his tone far too quickly – he wasn't reluctant about having broken curfew. He just hoped that it wouldn't take something drastic to make him understand.

"Yeah, what about it?" He replied with a sigh.

"Y-You wouldn't know if she's found a boyfriend yet, would you?"

"Wouldn't you kids catch wind of something like that faster than I would?"

"Yeah, but, you know, she could be hiding it or something. You know how her parents get."

"Huh. I hadn't thought about it like that. But you're good, she's not dating anyone."

He sighed with relief. "I still don't know what I'm gonna do, though."

"You already have the framework, right?"

"Yeah, but none of that stuff is going to work on a girl like her!" He shouted. "Now that I think about it Suguru couldn't get anywhere with Rika, and she turned him down pretty hard, so –"

"Hey, relax, all you have to do is come out and ask her. She's not into guys trying to flirt with her or anything like that."

"Now _that's_ just made up."

"I'm being serious. Just go talk to her about it. Try not to stammer, keep your head held high – you know, all that junk Chie-sensei tells the older kids about applying for jobs."

"Like I'm applying for a job... Hey, that's, like, amazing advice!" He beamed. "Alright, I'm going to go practice! You're the best, boss!" With that he ran off into the night. He almost called after him, reminding him to avoid the main roads, but he didn't have the willpower to do so.

He had little to do beyond heading home after that. His parents had long since gone to sleep and fortunately kept their door shut, so there would be little risk of waking them. It was a fairly attractive evening that marked the end of the awful weather – the moon was even out that night. He felt at peace – something that only someone allowed to be out on the streets could feel. To some extent this night was his and his alone – he enjoyed the feeling, and basked in it as much as he could, even though he was almost certain that there were villagers eyeing the streets like hawks from their homes.

Somewhat surprisingly he found Satoko upon opening his front door, standing in his kitchen with two glasses of some milk product, fitted with straws. He might've had more motivation to question how she'd gotten into his house if he weren't about to pass out.

"I made shakes." She announced, an amusing amount of pride in her voice, passing him one before she plopped herself down on the steps just outside the house. He joined her shortly after – she'd made him a vanilla shake, by far his favorite flavor.

"It's way too hot. You really shouldn't be wearing that thing on a night like this."

"You should see the layers the other guys are packing."

"Well, they have to make up for their ugly bodies somehow."

"I don't know about that, Noro gives off the impression that he's pretty ripped."

"Men like that are disgusting." She snorted.

"Yeah, like you'd have any idea."

"Plenty of girls give up on guys like that once they've spent a night with them. Then again, most girls would give up on a guy like you halfway through the first date." Despite her harsh line she scooted closer to him.

"Wow, that's rude." He took another sip from his shake.

"Hey, I want to go to Angel Mort this weekend."

"Planning on confessing to someone? I just told poor Tomita that he still had a shot. At least pick someone other than Shion."

"No, you fool. I just want to go, alright? And don't go around teasing Tomita-kun like that, he's not equipped for your level of bullying."

"Depends on the mood. There's some shit going on at Mion's place that doesn't seem like it's going to bode well for any of us."

She frowned. "Like what?"

"Well, for starters there's a bunch of guys in suits blocking anyone from going inside that just showed up this morning. Mion basically confirmed there's some pretty dubious shit going on in there but she's not allowed to say anything… Also, they're looking for some guy that I closely resemble."

"Wow, there's someone else with such a dopey look on their face _in this village_?"

"Eh, I'll give you a three out of ten for that one, you at least tried. I'm being serious, by the way."

"Alright, I get the idea. Then I'm going to borrow your room instead."

"You're moving out pretty soon; you should just take the time to finish packing."

"I don't even have that much to pack. You're not fooling me by the way; you just don't want me stumbling upon any porn or whatever. I want to see what's in there at least once before I go." She narrowed her eyes and smiled confidently.

"I'm going to be too tired to do anything you're into." He sighed. "You know, like I am right now."

"Hee hee, says the little boy that can't keep from getting excited around a cute girl."

"I'm not -" A quick inspection stopped him short. The sudden realization made his pants grow even tighter.

"Geez, maybe I shouldn't have said anything." She sighed, twisting around until she was facing him, her cheeks a little red. "Alright, alright, you did a good job today, so I'll take care of this for you."

Without another word she pulled him in to kiss her, tugging on the back of his head. It was sweet and tender – and served more as a minor distraction while her hands made short work of the zipper between her and his growing length.

"Hey, not out here, alright?" She ignored him, freeing the bulge from his pants in its entirety. "I'm being serious, you know."

"Oh relax, no one's going to find out. Just shut up and finish your shake."

"Hell no. 'Specially now that I'm pretty sure you spiked it with some –"

The inside of her mouth was cold from her shake, and from the moment he'd entered her she'd forgone her usual gentle uncertainty. Damn this girl – she'd planned this all along. It wasn't very long into their impromptu lovemaking that her lower half started to squirm – noticing this, he slipped his hands down her shorts, forcing her to stop and gasp. She wasn't quite used to this sort of thing yet, and in that moment he stood up, pulling her up from her rear with him so her arms were thrown over his shoulders and her legs ended up wrapped around his waist, her damp shorts pressed up against him.

"You're going to take responsibility for this, aren't you?" She asked sweetly, perhaps with a higher pitch than she intended.

The two of them vanished through the doorway after that, and while Keiichi managed to shut the door behind them they didn't make it much further than that. Had anyone gone past the Maebara house that evening they may have questioned the quiet but noticeable noise that filled the entrance-way. It was rather fortunate for the two forbidden lovers that no one did.


	3. Dtccn Fshwyy

_Chapter 3: Dtccn Fshwyy_

What a horrible dream.

He was there on the blood drenched shores of a deep and murky ocean, stretching off into the vast reaches of eternity, wrapped in the great darkness that was the sky and the clouds, wearing naught but the cheap swim trunks and goggles his mother had bought him the weekend they'd escaped to the seaside so very long ago, splashed with the blood of ages as though he were born mere moments ago. He was standing there along the very edge, the waves brushing against his barnacle covered toes that had long since sank through the wet sand as though he too had been there for an eternity. In a sudden burst of self awareness, he closed his eyes and hesitated only for a moment, recalling who he was and why he was there – but as soon as that moment had ended, he freed himself of his very partial entombment and, without really knowing why, he waded further into the water.

The sea is cold. The sea is terrifying. Yet he continued to approach it. The reasoning at least is sound. He knew what lied beneath the waves already. He'd seen in before. He'd been in this dream before and on some level he was lucid of that fact. And so he knew that he would wake before he could be hurt. And so it came to the point where he was in shoulder deep, and with that he dove beneath the water and outward, the feeling of solid ground beneath him fleeting.

 _Beep. Beep. Beep..peeB .peeB .peeB_

He stares down into the black abyss. There is no light, no sound – there is only the darkness. A diving light had suddenly mounted itself to his forehead, but it was malfunctioning. He surfaced for a moment, now a good two hundred feet away from the shore, took a deep breath, and then dove back down, this time kicking with all his strength.

 _I hear a sound. .peeB_

His chest tightened his eyes began to waver as his heart's pounding grew faster and faster as he went deeper and deeper, kicking as hard as his small body could manage. _  
_

_We have to open him up..tiaw ew fi evil t'now eH_

Beneath him is nothing but the black abyss. But suddenly the diving light fixed itself and light spilled into the darkness. Then there was a rumble – a loud shaking almost like an earthquake. And in the sea beneath him an eye opened. A massive eye so far in the distance he could only just barely make it out.

 _What's that squishy sound? .gnihcuot er'yeht niarb ym s'tahT_

It was a great colossus of the deep, so massive that the oceans of the world were merely ponds for it to splash in. Such a beast whose size could easily dwarf the moon had opened its eye, and it saw _him_. He was terrified and fascinated. He wanted to scream in both awe and terror. The feeling of beholding such a thing was so indescribable, he was driven mad trying to think about it.

 _I see you. .em ees uoY_

 _Do you see me?.ees t'nac I_

The insanity was so foreign and violating, but it felt good – very good. It felt rapturous in such an incomprehensible way that before too long his mind and body both expired, and he was merely sinking further and further, his eyes glazed over, the only part of his brain with even the smallest recollection of what it should be doing being the visual receptors.

All he could do was float there and let it all happen. He was afraid. So very afraid.

 _You're going to be alright. ?em ot did yeht tahw nees uoy evaH_

Then out of the depths came a wail – a loud incomprehensible screech, an amalgamation of all the cries of nature, as the eye split open down the middle and a torrent of black ooze rose from the gaping hole, hurtling further and further up until the entirety came to pierce his abdomen and fill his insides, like a thousand swift maggots crawling through him, eating out what was inside bit by bit.

 _There's something missing._ _.enog si niarb yM_

He could not escape his mortality. He could feel the pain. But he couldn't understand anything more of it than that. There was no longer a sea – there was only this undefined space and the life that was quite literally freeing itself of his flesh.

 _I can't save you. .snrub eerged driht hguorht evil t'nac uoY_

His fingertips burst open and winged cicadas came flying out, circling him and chewing away at his scalp. Holes in his skull began to pop open and rats emerged from them, crawling the length of his body and gnawing away at his skin. His chest cavity caved in and a small, black imp-like monstrosity with horns forcefully tore its way through his skin, clinging to his large intestine as it lowered itself down further into the darkness, pulling his frozen body further down towards the massive eye.

 _Little sis! Little sis! Please save me! .sis elttil a evah t'nod I_

The descent took hours, if not days, and what a slow descent it was. By the time the eye engulfs his form there is nothing left for him to feel with.

There is only his sight – only his sight has not failed him.

 _You can still hear it..eromyna gnihtyna raeh t'nac I_

But it no longer matters, for all that awaits in the depths of the eye is Oblivion.

 _Beep. Beep. Beep. .peeB .peeB .peeB_

 _Don't forget me. .uoy rebmemer t'now I_

But when he at long last achieves awakening, he must forget the dream. That is the one and only law of that bottomless sea.

* * *

 _June 2_ _nd_ _, 1984_

Honesty. Compassion. Valor. Justice. Sacrifice. Honor. Spirituality. Humility. The eight virtues that made a man truly a man that, if followed to the dot could make the world a better place in the eyes of all those that bore witness to them.

Building oneself upon these virtues wasn't easy. In fact very few, if any, mortal men had the capacity to do so. And in some views it was impossible to adhere to all eight at the same time in the first place. For instance, compassion and valor could exist at two ends of the spectrum, and both justice and honor were poorly defined concepts to begin with that not only have held different meanings from one age to the next, but from person to person and circumstance to circumstance as well.

But above all else, there was honesty – honesty could stand in opposition of them all. Much like the world of difference between nicety and goodness, one could act with honor, compassion, or any of the others, but whether or not someone portrays them truthfully, for the sake of nothing but the virtues themselves, was something of far greater import than men could really understand. That was something that, ironically enough, would never change, no matter how much time passed.

Daiki Tomita was only thirteen years old. In truth his view of the world was so tiny that none of the conflictions were known to him even in concept. He wasn't even all that good at keeping track of more than a few of the virtues at a time. But even so, he longed for the day that he could embody all eight, so that people could look at him and see something significant – something sturdy, true, and admirable. Something that in his current form, he most certainly was not, at least as far as he could see with his view of things.

Already he was a bit shaky on the concept of humility, and as all men are from a very early age he was cursed to want, but nevertheless had much of his life ahead of him – and to some extent it was accurate to say that he hadn't really started living yet.

But for now he was a child, trying to grow up faster than both his mind and body would allow. He was already attracted to other girls his age, though he wasn't mentally strong enough to understand any of love's complexities. He was very smart and mindful, but only with regards to thing that he could see in the scope of his mind.

At one point he was confident in himself and free of worries, much like any boy was. But before too long he found himself in a difficult situation and, as any boy would, buckled under the stress. With little means of interpreting his own feelings, he withdrew into himself.

There are plenty of people that go through their lives without such an experience until they've become young adults – but there were just as many that were not as fortunate. He was merely one of them, and as all others that lived in the same sort of shade that he did the world he saw was shaped a little differently from the one he was expected to live in. He was able to live as a normal human being – but he could never quite see things the same way, and that fact would only become more apparent with age.

Having been born in Hinamizawa into a family split straight down the middle on the extent of child rearing, anything that he did not learn from lectures at school he essentially taught himself. He'd built this moral compass of his based off of a computer game that a friend had lent him. He admired superheroes and anti-heroes from books and movies, rather than actual people. He was more interested in reading about a stereotypical battle of good and evil than listening to other kids his age complaining about things that were even more so. Doing so however ultimately meant that he sucked much of the life out of his childhood. But at the pace he was going - with the life he was living – he was perfectly satisfied with such a thing.

But even so he was perfectly capable of making friends. He was smart enough to impress other people, and at that age all one needed to be appealing was to be _the biggest_ or _the best_ at something – or, as was his case, be the foil to those sorts of people. That was why on this particular day, during recess, he was taking part in a game he'd inadvertently started when he brought his book of mental challenges to the table.

The school's playground was expansive enough for students to form their own groups and stick to them as their pack mentality dictated. Daiki's so called 'group' consisted of himself and his best friend, Suguru. They represented one tier above the lowest and so they were able to associate with children younger than them easily if they played their 'big kids' factor the right way.

There were six children of note in the pack today sitting at the outdoor snack tables as they did every day. There was Chiaki, a nine year old girl that lived near the Furude shrine, who liked drawing pictures of the flower fields and showing them off and very little else. There was Shugo, one of Daiki's classmates that was into baseball and struggled with composition that was digging into a sandwich. Sitting across from him was Hana, seven years old and in love with singing and dancing. Parading herself around in front of the others was Hinoka, who was the eldest of the lowest level class that had the best grades and the pompousness that went along with them. And of course there was Daiki himself, sitting on the far end of the table hovering over a book on complex puzzles with Suguru next to him flipping through a volume of _Lupin The Third_ instead.

Hinoka, being the nosy child she was had long since demanded to look at the book he was reading and after about a minute of skimming the pages she started her usual protesting.

"What's a letter-number?" She asked with a look of disgust on her face, as though the mere concept was beneath her.

"Ooh, that sounds cool!" Shugo exclaimed with a chunk of lettuce churning between his teeth.

"Is it hard to understand?" Chiaki squeaked nervously.

"It's a secret code," Daiki attempted to explain. "Let's see – how many letters are there in the English alphabet?"

"The alphabet?" Hinoka furrowed her eyebrows for a moment, trying to take in something off one of the pages that was about two tiers above her own reading level. "Twenty-six, right? But who cares about the alphabet?" She brushed off her ignorance as she usually did – she was too aware of it for her own good.

"Right, and the first letter is 'A'. You can replace the first letter with the number one, and the next letter with number two, and so on."

"Can we do it with _our_ letters instead? English is hard." Hana groaned.

"Sure thing – I just used the table from our writing class. Every character gets a number."

" _Ooh!_ Lemme see!" Shugo suddenly reached over for the book and stared at it intently for a few moments. "I don't get it," he announced after a few moments.

"This isn't so hard." Hinoka determined after a few moments. "Yeah, only an idiot wouldn't get something this simple. She started scribbling away at a piece of paper Daiki had nearby. "There, try to solve that one."

Shugo and Chiaki both started at the paper for awhile, Chiaki clawing at the book for the reference table that was on the page it was opened to. Eventually Shugo came to a conclusion while Chiaki gave up. The result naturally wasn't correct.

"No, dummy, it's like this." Hinoka reached over and converted the coded sentence very quickly for him. Sure enough the message read something along the lines of 'Shugo is an idiot,' so he started whining at her for the content rather than actually retain anything from what she'd shown him.

Noticing she was being left out Daiki gave a message to Hana. She started trying to solve it, but she wasn't the best counter in her class, so she struggled. Eventually Hinoka took the message from her despite her protests and solved it herself, marking up the paper with far neater writing than the sloppy scribbles Hana had been scratching at the page thus far.

"Hey, that was Hana's!" Suguru suddenly butt in.

"Who cares? She wasn't going to solve it anyway." Hinoka scoffed before writing her own message and giving it to Daiki to solve. He hadn't put as much work into memorizing the chart as Hinoka had and couldn't solve the cipher as quickly, but fortunately was fast enough for the girl to not grow impatient.

This went on for awhile as the other children caught on to the basic idea and, as children often did, they began to experiment with it. The messages were for the most part short and simple and aside from Hinoka's the bulk of them were worded very poorly. Someone even managed to accidentally write out a curse word, which drove the entire congregation into an uproar.

"Hey, you try to solve this one." Daiki passed a message over to Suguru.

"Nah, I'm not into it." He said without looking away from his manga volume.

"Oh, don't be like that, Suguru-kun. You can do it if you put your mind to it!" Another voice suddenly rang out from further away from the table.

A third party had arrived on the scene, causing Suguru to more or less stand in attention. It was Rika Furude, the princess of their grade, a boxed lunch with nothing but vegetables inside in hand.

"A-Ah, no, it's okay Rika-chan, it's not really my thing." Suguru stammered, trying as hard as he could to focus on his book.

Rika narrowed her eyes slightly and, giving the remnants of her lunch to the teary eyed Hana whose wistful mood immediately improved, sat down at the table and flipping over the sheet the group had been using to write their ciphers, wrote down a pattern of her own.

"Hm... Let's see you try solving this one. It's a one time pad – it's supposed to be the hardest to crack, right?" She looked to Daiki for affirmation.

In truth he hadn't even heard of such a code and quickly flipped through pages of the book until he could affirm her claim. Of course for the sake of seeing how this would play out, he left out how solving such a cipher was not only fundamentally different from any other but virtually impossible to solve by hand without the aforementioned pad. In fact, a one time pad was a tedious nightmare even by hand. If they had some tool or function they could input the code and pad into it would take a matter of seconds, but as it stood it wouldn't be possible for anyone at this table to solve.

It really should've been impossible for any of them to just throw one together, let alone also convert the scrambled result to a letter-number form entirely in one step like Rika just had as well, but he kept that fact to himself as well.

"Eh, I'll pass." Suguru said, this time coolly. Daiki wanted to plant his face in his palm – Suguru was perhaps only fooling himself into thinking that his attitude was anything but a cover.

Then Rika leaned in with her typical sweet smile on her face and whispered something into his ear, at which point his eyes widened and he immediately sat the paper in front of him and started translating the numbers into letters at breakneck speeds. Daiki knew just from the glint in Rika's eyes that she was manipulating the poor boy – and, knowing Suguru like he did, it was apparent that she didn't need to offer him anything more than a peck on the cheek to completely dominate him. He wasn't shocked that Suguru was better at the code ciphering than anyone else at the table, given how the boy was very smart but entirely uninspired.

"...Wait a minute, did I screw up?" He double checked the table again, but sure enough he hadn't been able to convert the message correctly. "The message is still scrambled! There's gotta be some other kind of encryption."

"Nah, you probably just screwed something up." Shugo had finished his sandwich and was devoting all of his runtime to this minor distraction.

Rika's cipher proved too hard for any of the children to crack. Sure enough, Hinoka came forward boasting about how easily she could solve it – however, she came up short as well. She flared up for a few minutes over trying to break the code, but she couldn't no matter how hard she tried.

Taking full advantage of the opportunity the other children laughed at her, including Hana who knew to relish in her small victory as much as possible. Suddenly the name calling was piled on her in greater force than she'd ever exposed anyone else to.

"It's a _stupid_ game, anyway! There's no point if you can't figure out the answer!" She shouted, before storming off away from the table.

"Hah, yeah, at least we know who the real dummy is now -" Shugo attempted to call after her, but without warning Rika reached over and slapped him across the face, before hurrying off after the girl.

Just like that the game was over, and everyone that took part felt bad about what they'd said and done because it was now possible that they'd get in trouble afterward. It was known to all children in Hinamizawa that when Rika, the only daughter of the Furude shrine, was involved in an incident, it didn't matter how minor an offense it was – there would be consequences, and the kind that the parents made sure their children were well aware of. Daiki felt a small pang in his gut – just being the one that had brought the book with him in the first place was enough to upset him. After all, when it came to this kind of argument that was all that mattered to anyone, even the adults – who did what first.

Eventually he went off after the two of them, mostly because of that brief moment of panic. He found the two over by the tool shed, hiding in the shadows. Hinoka was in tears – the frustration and hurt pent up inside of her had spilled over.

She may have been very rude and typically disagreeable, but there was a very delicate weight to the things she said. But she always argued with other children who hadn't matured even slightly and so had no perception of such a thing, so they'd gone after her with as much cruelty as they could muster.

"Those idiots, running their mouths like that...!" Hinoka sobbed.

"It's okay, sweet thing." Rika cooed, gently rubbing the girl's back. "It's not your fault you couldn't solve it – you can't solve a one time pad unless someone gives you the pad."

"That's a really mean trick, you know?"

"I know, I'm sorry – don't worry, I'll share the pad with you." She smiled gently and the girl looked up at her with hurt, puppy dog eyes that wanted nothing more than for the older girl to keep babying her.

But that all faded away in a few seconds. "It's not a big deal anyway." She stuttered, her shoulders still shaking. "It's just a dumb game. There's more important things to be worried about."

"That's my girl." Rika kissed her forehead and hugged her tighter. "All you have to do is just stay strong – there will always be people that'll love you for it."

"H-Hey, stop that, will you?" Hinoka protested despite the color in her cheeks. "I'm not a little girl anymore."

"I know that, silly – this is the kind of thing adults do, don't you know?"

"That...That can't be right..."

"Hee, you want me to tell you about what adults do when they feel down?"

Daiki decided it would be best to retreat after that – that particular conversation was going in a direction he would easily have been lynched for trying to follow. Rika was known for treating the younger girls like they were her daughters but this was approaching territory that most children that age weren't ready for – in fact the only reason why he had any notion of it himself was because of Suguru's perverted mind.

And the far more perverted Keiichi Maebara, who appeared on the scene next to him before he had a chance to escape.

"So what's going on over there?" He whispered into his ear before he even knew he was standing there.

He couldn't contain his surprise and let out a yelp – which Keiichi quickly stunted by covering his mouth. Fortunately for the both of them he'd figured out what was going on very quickly.

"Hey, do you want to die young?" Daiki shook his head furiously. "Then for fuck's sake don't make a _sound!_ " He sounded genuinely urgent.

Without any further delay the two of them crept away from the tow girls, finally coming to a stop by the snack tables which were now empty. By now the lunch break was about to wrap up.

"Hey, boss, do you know if she..." He didn't have the self control to keep his inquiry buried any longer.

"Rika? Nah, she's just really mushy."

"Do you really mean that or do you just not want to break Suguru's heart?"

"I'm serious. She – uh, I don't really think I should tell you anything more about it." He said with a laugh and a sheepish grin.

"W-Wait a minute - don't tell me she's going out with _you._ "

"No, it's not like that at all -"

"But that explains why she suddenly started acting so lewd a few months ago! A-And why she's been hanging so loose around everyone since her birthday!"

"Wait, _lewd?_ What's that supposed to mean?"

"She teases all the boys in our class constantly! She makes Suguru do all this weird stuff that I'd never even imagine him doing – I could keep going but you get the idea, right?"

Keiichi had to try hard to stifle a laugh at that last bit. "Well, Rika was always kind of mentally older for her age, but I don't think -"

"Tell me the truth, boss!"

In truth, Daiki was just wildly curious about the whole concept of romantic love – he'd read plenty about it before, and one of these days he was going to end up taking the leap into hentai, so it was only natural that he'd go to his role model for information about this sort of thing. Keiichi knew this all too well, which was why he could keep talking to the boy without fumbling through trying to figure out what to say.

"No, really, there's nothing going on with her. You _could_ ask her yourself, you know. She'd probably open up to one of you kids more easily than she'd talk to me about that kind of thing."

Daiki didn't really accept that answer, but for the time being he had no other option than to let it go. Instead of heading back to Suguru and the others, he ended up following Keiichi into the school building. It turned out that Keiichi stumbling upon him was no accident - he was apparently being brought to Keiichi's group of friends at someone's request.

The schoolhouse was a lot more relaxing when devoid of the students as it was then – he could imagine how easy it was to just kick back and perhaps even fall asleep during lunch break in one of the classrooms. If the requirements for being able to do so were joining Mion Sonozaki's extracurricular club maybe it would've been worth it to go ahead and ask about joining. Of course there was always the apparent concerns that came with such a thing.

The way the village was structured the three head families were all feared, but to different extents. The Sonozaki family was the richest family known even in the surrounding area and held all the village's political cards with family members in the government and shady deals with NGOs to ensure that further interference with the village's affairs would be unlikely. The true power in the village, however, was far and away the Furude family, which through religious practice dictated the social culture and tone of all the villagers, the parents in particular, and while they tried to advocate their independence constantly, especially in the eyes of the youngest generation, the Kimiyoshi family and their village watch was little more than a tool of the Furude family's own design.

In this single club, the heirs to all three families were present. He knew Rika well enough, but Mion and to a larger extent Natsumi were like great mysteries to him. Natsumi had a reputation among the children as their pride and joy, but to adults like his parents, she wasn't spoken of in such high regard and only in whispers to begin with, and the students her age that she wasn't close friends with had little to nothing to say about her.

But eventually he had to face the two of them, as they soon reached the top floor and the classroom where the club was having their lunch.

Inside were Mion and Natsumi, sitting near some desks they had pushed together with a huge pile of cards at the center of it. Satoko was there too, though sulking off to the side, having apparently lost whatever game they were playing. Over by the windows was a man in a black suit, shielding his eyes from the sun with a black hat, nestled into a large chair taken from the tables outside with one of his arms hanging lazily over an empty bag of cheese doodles.

"Hey, I brought him," Keiichi called out.

Everyone sans the seemingly sleeping man suddenly stopped what they were doing and turned to face the two of them in the doorway.

"Oh, good!" Natsumi cheered. "We can start this game over, right Mii-chan?"

"T-That's a good idea." Satoko agreed animatedly. "As long as we forget this ever happened. Yeah."

"No problem," Mion said, before craning her neck in the direction of the sleeping man. "Hey, if you're just going to sleep there all day you might as well play too. We've got a good half hour left."

"No, I'll be alright. Your club is too barbaric." The man groaned.

"If Mion's going to let other people join in we can't have a punishment game." Keiichi explained briefly, though all of it went over Daiki's head.

"Hm..." One the man's eyes popped out from under the hat, glinting with curiosity.

"Hey, we could go to that restaurant with the cute waitress tonight if you win." Mion shot back with a toothy grin.

Apparently that was all it took, as the man kicked away from the wall, moving towards the group of desks, still in his chair, before twisting himself around and sitting in it backwards. "Heh, alright, just don't expect me to chicken out on that punishment game. If I'm in I'm going all the way."

"Hah, you're going to regret turning down the offer, _aniki_." Mion chuckled.

"Just let me cut the deck, alright?"

"Hm, I don't see why not – Tomita-kun should shuffle." Mion pulled a deck of clean, unblemished cards out of her cardboard box and held it out in his direction.

"Ah, right, I haven't really told you shit yet." Keiichi suddenly remembered that Daiki was standing next to him. "Rika had to drop out today and we didn't really have anything serious planned, so Mion thought it would be alright if we invited other people to play with the club today. I suggested you since I was kind of an asshole the last night."

"O-Oh, but that's okay, really -"

"We'd love to have Tomita-kun play!" Natsumi cut him off. "We're just going to have fun today, no punishment games."

"Hey, if you win, I can get Satoko to walk home with you." Keiichi whispered into his ear.

"O-Ok!" He nodded vigorously as though he'd been temporarily possessed by Suguru's gullibility.

With that he was brought to the table and, sure enough, sat down next to Satoko – it was all a ploy to put him at a mental disadvantage, and surely everyone in the circle except for perhaps the man sitting across from him would notice and play to their advantage.

"You're Daiki Tomita-kun, right?" The man suddenly asked him, taking off his hat. His hair was short, black and very unremarkable, especially when compared to the exotic looks everyone else at the table sported. "I'm Ryou Sekiguchi. I'm a friend of Mion's parents. It's nice to meet you." He smiled with a tired but radiant exuberance that was strangely familiar to him.

He extended his hand and Daiki naturally shook it and said nothing. He didn't feel as though anything needed to be said, which made him that much more relaxed around the man. It was very much like making friends with a boy his age despite how this man visually appeared to be in his mid to late thirties.

No, he'd have to be wary of that man more than anyone else at the table.

The game Mion ultimately decided on was poker, and a typical five-draw game at that – mainly because it was the only game she had on hand that Sekiguchi actually knew how to play. The way the game was organized, they would play 3 games, and the participants with the three lowest numbers of chips by the end would participate in a collective punishment game, which only Daiki himself was excluded from. The rules were simple enough for Daiki to follow, but then again so were most of the other games in the box. He'd spent so much time reading manuals and rulebooks for games he'd never actually end up playing with anyone else – there was a surprising amount of overlap.

He'd held that deck with his own hands for a few moments – there were indeed no blemishes on any of the cards, and upon leaving his hands, Sekiguchi ensured that Mion hadn't slipped any nonstandard cards into the deck before cutting it. It was a completely clean deck, and as such there were no qualms with allowing Mion to deal. The cards were dealt to Mion, Sekiguchi, Satoko, Natsumi, Keiichi and Daiki in that order. Furthermore the deck would be reshuffled and cut again after each hand, so truly no one had an advantage over anyone else.

Despite that he had no real intention of winning, since even if they both went easy on him there was no chance that he could overcome Keiichi or Mion. As such, he pretended not to notice Satoko glancing at his cards whenever he was dealt a new one. At this point he'd already gotten over the initial shock of having been seated next to her, so he could at least consider the cards in his hand for more than a few seconds at a time.

He wasn't planning on winning, but all the while Sekiguchi kept challenging him with his eyes. He at least wanted to stay in long enough to last longer than him for at least one hand.

"Shit… I'm out," Keiichi sighed first, not far after the initial betting round. "These games suck when I don't know the cards."

"Look at the bright side, Maebara-kun." Sekiguchi chimed in. "You'll be doing better this hand than Houjou-kun, with cards like that." He called Satoko out on a poor hand without so much as glancing in her direction.

"H-How dare you!" Satoko protested, as Daiki expected she didn't have much of a poker face.

"Hm, that's one hell of a bluff right there." Mion chuckled, thinking nothing of it.

"True, I can't blatantly cheat in this game." Sekiguchi "However, there's nothing terribly hard to figure out about Houjou-kun's hand."

"Do you really need to be picking on Satoko like that?" Natsumi frowned.

"I'm sure she knows it's all just part of the game," Sekiguchi finally looked Satoko's way, smiling warmly at her when their eyes met.

"Maybe you can tell everyone how Natsumi is doing, then." Daiki challenged him almost without thinking, sensing how uncomfortable Satoko was and feeling the need to come to her aid in some way. There was a brief glint in Sekiguchi's eyes that did nothing but intimidate him. "O-Or, maybe not, I guess?"

"Heh, yeah, let's hear it." Keiichi grinned.

"Well, for the moment she has the best hand of the lot."

"I-I do? Yay!" The atmosphere of the game seemed to go straight over the girl's head, but then again that might've just been her way of throwing everyone off.

"I'm pretty sure Tomita wanted something a little more specific than that, am I right?" The look Keiichi gave him in the next moment suggested he had something planned. Though they were opponents, he decided to nod in affirmation anyway.

"At the moment she's three cards away from a straight flush." He said nonchalantly, drawing another card. "Sadly my hand just became a bit better, and if Mion-kun draws that card right there she'll be better off folding now."

Everyone fell silent after that, even Natsumi. Mion refused to draw, but Satoko folded shortly and after being dealt that card Daiki dropped out as well. It was safe to assume his call had been correct on all accounts, and so at least for the moment it seemed that this round was going to go to Sekiguchi.

When it came time to bet again, Mion bet a fourth of her chips, which Sekiguchi then doubled. Natsumi had unfortunately let him under her skin and ended up dropping out at that point. In the end Sekiguchi had three of a kind, which was only slightly better than Mion's two of a kind.

"What the hell? Those cards were awful." Mion groaned.

"True, Ryugu-kun would've beaten us both had she stayed in." He laughed.

"That's so cruel…" Natsumi pouted.

The second hand went much the same way, except Mion managed to win some of her chips back, but only because Sekiguchi folded almost immediately after she tried to raise the bid. At this point Daiki was in the bottom three, but not by much – Keiichi was just barely below him and as was predicted Satoko was in dead last. Sekiguchi and Mion were nearly tied, and there was quite a gap between the two of them and the struggling Natsumi.

Though he did not dominate the hand, Sekiguchi's wild predictions still managed to hold true, accurately stumping Satoko and Natsumi yet again, while egging Mion on the same way he did in the previous round. Since he wasn't obsessed with the notion of winning Daiki thought long and hard about how he could have been that consistent about it. At the start of each hand, he would shuffle and Sekiguchi would cut. The order was changing each time and Sekiguchi had never seen all the cards at once past that initial inspection.

The cards were not marked. At most there was grease residue from the snacks they had with their lunch. In fact, he found a speck of lettuce from Keiichi's sandwich one the ace of hearts before that he had to clean off -

No, that couldn't _really_ be the solution, could it? It wasn't a very probable scenario in the first place since relying on something so luck based was just impractical, but even then it would be essentially impossible to read any cards from a distance. You needed a particular lighting to pull off such a thing. There was no other way to pick up such a small detail.

In some way Sekiguchi was rendering that fact superfluous. Somehow, the information he could obtain with his hands and his eyes were enough to accurately predict the cards in the hands of his opponents.

At this point the only way anyone in the bottom three could win was if someone in the top two bet unrealistically high. But considering who the top two consisted of it would be entirely possible to get them to do just that with enough trash talk. And if he was actually on to something here, he could perhaps drag Sekiguchi down to fourth place at least.

For the final hand, he once again shuffled and Sekiguchi cut. Mion once again dealt.

"Sekiguchi-san, if you don't mind me asking," Daiki started about two rotations into the dealing. "Can you... tell us anything about the card bo – that Keiichi-san was just dealt?"

"Hm? And why would I do that?" He blinked at him a few times.

"I just wanted to know, is all." Daiki knew he was doing a horrible job at concealing how he was trying to get at something – the others eyed him curiously, but his eyes were on Sekiguchi and Sekiguchi alone.

"I'd like to give Maebara-kun a chance. How about we discuss the finer points of that Jack of Clubs Houjou-kun is trying not to smile at?"

Satoko flared up from being picked on again, but Daiki's eyes remained on Sekiguchi, and were not unfocused enough to miss the very faint smile the man sent his way. His eyes then passed towards Natsumi's hands. She fidgeted around notably more than everyone else, and so she was always shifting her fingers around. Before they'd seemed to be unnaturally rubbing against certain regions of her cards, but if she could feel the residue that reaction would make sense.

That had been the one point in the entirety of their game that Sekiguchi had outright refused to read someone's hand. He had no idea if anyone else had caught on but it was apparent for the moment that there was indeed a limit to what he could read.

During this hand Daiki's luck improved dramatically. He had managed to pull off four of a kind – four jacks, to be exact. He had a serious chance of pulling off a win here, and not just for the hand, but for the whole game.

"I wouldn't be so confident in that hand if I were you, Tomita-kun." Sekiguchi chimed in.

Of course he was more actively participating in this particular hand – anyone at the table would've known that he was doing well. This time, Mion dropped out very early on, her luck finally running out. Satoko and Natsumi both folded after the drawing finished. In the end the only three that were left were Keiichi, Daiki and Sekiguchi.

"Alright, I'll bet this much, but why don't we make this last round all or nothing?" Keiichi challenged the other two. "Unless of course you guys are too scared I might finally have the hand to end all hands."

"You're not going to get me to go all-in for no reason, Maebara-kun." Sekiguchi laughed. "But I'll raise that double – ah, but Tomita-kun is pretty much finished in that case, isn't he?"

He didn't have enough chips at this point to match Keiichi's bet and most certainly didn't have enough to match the bet Sekiguchi just made. Keiichi was fully expecting him to fold, but what actually came out of his mouth shook the whole table, himself included.

"Nah, I'm alright. I'll go all in. Oh, and you don't need to worry about me, boss, I'll take that punishment game or whatever."

"On _that_ hand? Are you sure?" Sekiguchi raised an eyebrow.

"Aw shit, here we go. Screw it, I'll go all in too. _Ryou_ needs to re-raise now, right?" Keiichi was going to be stuck in the bottom tier no matter what – this would be his only chance to gain any ground.

Sekiguchi sighed. "What's with the hostility? I was polite to you all game and this is how I get repaid? That applies to you too, Tomita-kun. I'm about to start crying here!"

"I don't want to offend you or anything, but you can drop the act now. I'm more than sure that you have no idea what either of our hands look like."

For a moment he looked stunned as the rest of the table started piecing together what Daiki was saying. Then he let out a hearty laugh and pushed his pile of chips to the center of the table.

"Alright, this could be fun. I'll go all in, just don't expect a whole lot of nothing on my end, alright?"

"Oh _fuck_ , I'm going to lose this pretty badly, aren't I?" Keiichi groaned after glancing between the two a few times – apparently he hadn't been following what was going on at all.

But while Daiki was so focused on Sekiguchi, he hadn't spent a moment on considering what Keiichi was setting up – he wasn't sure if Keiichi was holding out this long just for the sake of his pride, or if he actually had something decent.

Tension hung in the air as the cards were about to come down for the final time.

"Before we end this, let's hear Tomita-kun's reasoning." Sekiguchi broke the silence. "What makes you think I can't tell what's going on in your hand?"

"You can't read anyone's hand past the initial dealing. Even then, you can only read three hands – Sonozaki-san's, Ryugu-san's, and Satoko-san's."

"How so?"

"You went through a bag of cheese doodles before, right? Well, those leave a pretty pronounced grease stain whenever they touch something. When you checked the deck before the first hand, you marked every card front and back with that 'stain' and memorized which card had which pattern."

"It's impossible to see something like that unless you have a card right in front of your face though, isn't it?" Satoko tried to process what he was saying.

"Exactly… Um, it's kind of hard to explain this, but everyone at this table holds their cards differently. Ryugu-san squirms around a lot, and she rubs her fingers over the grease, so it's easy to tell which cards she's holding. Well, easy if you know all that information off the top of your head."

"That _does_ make sense, I mean, if you don't ask any questions about it, like, at all, but what about for the other two?" Keiichi's eyebrows furrowed.

"The cards were dealt the exact same way every time, in the same order so – well, to be honest I really can't tell you that this is entirely true, but the only thing that makes sense is for the cards to have all been marked in such a way that it would be easy to tell if any changes to the pattern had been made – like, for instance, two cards being pressed against each other hard enough to leave an imprint, both front and back, which is where cutting the deck comes in. All he would need to do _then_ is check the card he was dealt to know which card came before, and which would come after."

After that there was silence. It took a few moments after saying it all out loud for it to really sink in how ridiculous that conclusion was. His cheeks heated up very quickly after that and he had to resist the urge to hide his face in his hands.

"Well," Sekiguchi began, "you've got the basic idea."

"Dude, there's _no way_ you're being serious right now." Keiichi nearly burst out laughing.

"The main difference is that I couldn't rely on my own markings alone after the deck was reshuffled. For the second and third hands the lot of you helped me out. You've all been eating junk food this whole time, after all, and it's not as though it's impossible to memorize the kind of prints left by name brand products. The fact that you made it _that_ far is honestly more than I was expecting. Very good."

Sekiguchi then revealed his cards – three of a kind.

"Mion, where the hell did this guy come from?" Keiichi groaned.

"I can't get him to tell me." She said with a shrug. "I'm a bit more interested in Tomita-kun's hand at the moment."

"Hey, let's not act like I'm not still in the game, alright?" Keiichi revealed his own hand – four of a kind. Natsumi audibly gasped while Mion simply started laughing. "Yeah, screw you guys."

Daiki then showed his hand and the table erupted in cheers. Keiichi's hand was all eights, which were beaten by Daiki's jacks, marking him the winner. Satoko slapped him on the back but he was too stunned to even notice. All he really cared about at that moment was Sekiguchi's reaction – he stared at him for a few moments, almost pleadingly, and the man slowly applauded him in reply.

In the aftermath of that, Daiki was showered in praise from all sides, being invited to join Mion's club at least twice, though he ultimately turned them down. He knew for sure after that game that he wasn't even close to being ready to take such a huge leap.

But all that aside, the conclusion of that game marked the first time in quite a long while that he felt any sort of pride in himself. It was a powerful feeling – the kind that could push him to do something incredibly stupid. But it still felt good all the same.

The punishment game that Satoko, Keiichi and Sekiguchi were to take part in was something related to cleaning up one of the far reaches of the wall that surrounded the village, a task that would doubtlessly take hours to complete. The catch was that they all had to do the job while wearing very skimpy clothing. Sekiguchi seemed a little too excited at the prospect, whereas Keiichi brushed it off as though he'd done it a million times before. Keiichi also made the arrangements for him to walk Satoko home and she agreed rather happily.

Also for the first time in quite awhile, he felt practically uplifted. During the afternoon lectures he actively answered questions to the point where everyone but Satoko was openly confused by his sudden enthusiasm.

Of course all of that suddenly vanished when only an hour before the end of the day he saw the familiar black car pull up to the side of the school and sure enough he was called down to the principal's office.

His mother had arrived to pick him up early. She needed him at home, and for one, remarkably selfish reason alone.

His father had flown into another rage. And she wanted him there so he wouldn't hit her. He never struck his wife in front of his son.

He'd been brought back down to earth a lot sooner than he would've liked. He envied the countless children that could feel that way all hours of the day – the ones whose grades were consistently good, who had no problems pushing forward in their lives constantly.

Ah, yet another virtue he didn't quite understand.

* * *

 _The Second Night_

That night he had the usual dream. Only on this particular night when he woke, he woke not to the familiar darkness of his room, but instead to the wail of a smoke detector.

The world he withdrew into when the dream ended – the world where he kept to himself and blocked out the rest of the world had been cut off from all else entirely by a wall of heat and flame.

He was still in a daze but he managed to pull himself to his feet and scrambled towards his doorway – but the door was stuck, and though the fire had not yet spilled into his room it had devoured the ceiling above him – and in a moment a huge wooden beam tore through it, piercing straight through the carpet just to the right of him, plaster and wood chips flying about and crushing his computer. The sudden shock was enough to wake him completely and he began banging on the door, calling for his mother.

But no matter how much he called out, no matter how hard he yanked on the doorknob there was no salvation – no escape from that dark space. He could see the stars in the night sky above – for a moment he considered climbing, but he wasn't strong enough for that sort of thing. He ran over to his window, and sure enough any kind of jump would kill him. He might have been able to gradually lower himself to the bottom, but that would require an immense risk.

The only mechanism he had was his cries for help, with little more effectiveness than those of a newborn baby.

Before too long more of the ceiling came crashing down around him, destroying his glasses, tearing apart his bed, and ultimately pinning him down by the waist, crushing one of his weak legs beneath the weight of another beam. The pain was so intense that he'd nearly passed out – before he knew it, somewhere deep down he'd subconsciously accepted that he was going to die.

But then the door burst open and a figure emerged from the other side, moving through the rubble and making their way to where he was trapped. In a matter of moments he was free of the wooden beam and being carried through the charred halls of his home, slung over someone's shoulder.

The walls were blown out, the wooden floor either burned away or impaled by rubble the whole length. Everything that had made that building his home had in such a small amount of time been burned away. In all of an instant, the balance he'd created in his life was tipped and no amount of money his parents could have had would ever be able to account for any of it.

His books were gone, his computer was totaled. His room was a smoldering heap of clothes and plaster. What he had lost was immeasurable, yet the separation was objectively material. For a boy like that, however, it was as though he'd lost both his legs and had his eyes carved out.

At long last he emerged from the wreckage and was gently set down on the lawn just outside what had once been his home. He heard hysterical screaming and shouting, and somewhere in the distance his mother crying his name in between sobs.

Hovering over him was Natsumi, her body shaking and tears uncontrollably streaming down the sides of her face as though it was her home that had burned down, and Keiichi, his boss, who had immediately gone to her side to pull off her burning coat, as she'd gotten completely lost in the condition of the boy she'd just saved to think about herself.

Natsumi knelt down on the grass next to him, checking his body for damage. When she reached his leg her trembling grew out of control. Keiichi squatted down next to her and ripped away the charred clothing covering the leg and gently removed it.

"It's okay, you're gonna be alright kid, there's enough leg here to patch you up." Keiichi reassured him, though his consciousness was already hazy at best.

Despite the emotional relief he girl couldn't compose herself – she ended up breaking down into Keiichi's arms, much to his bewilderment.

"I can't. I can't do it by myself, Keiichi-kun. I just want –"

"It's okay." He whispered, rubbing the girl's back gently, his eyes still wide and confused. "You didn't do anything wrong. You saved his life. It's okay."

From behind them came his mother who nearly collapsed next to him, one of her eyes blackened. His father had hit her after all – but unlike all the other times when she'd cried her eyes out, all she did now was scramble towards her son as though her life depended on it.

"My boy... My poor boy..." His mother was never a very expressive person. She was a reserved and soft spoken person all her life and even after becoming a mother she retained that quality. Her expressions were always diluted as was her voice. But at that moment all of that was gone – her eyes were red, her face twisted, her voice violent and distraught. And she jerked her head around and screamed. " _It's his fault! It's all that bastard's fault!_ From the start it was always him – his parents were Catholic, he knew what coming here meant, he always did and even then -"

"Tomita-san, please calm down." Keiichi tried to tame the woman but to no avail – she merely slapped him across the face as hard as she could.

"My boy is in pain – he might not ever walk again, and you're-"

"Please, _stop this_." This time he caught her arm and held it firmly, his face stern and resolute. "We'll listen to your whole story down at the station. I don't think Daiki wants to hear about any of this crap right now, you understand?"

That was enough to quell her fury, but her sadness continued to fall freely as she gently stroke her son's head, apologizing profusely and reassuring him that everything would be alright.

But they were so far past 'alright' that he was already beginning for forget what it felt like.

Daiki Tomita was only thirteen years old, but regardless of whether or not his mind or body would allow it, he was now forced to grow up. Otherwise, the only thing that was left for him, naturally, was Oblivion.


	4. Rine Gesov

_Chapter 4: Rine Gesov_

What a horrible dream.

And endless shore that stretched off endlessly into the distance. A deep sea that was just as endless. It is a sea of both dreams and nightmares, and only those that behold its wonders and terrors alike will ever truly be able to understand its meaning.

A bottomless sea, and an endless dream, both stretching off into the incomprehensible reaches of eternity. It is the dream of both the living and the dead. Where terms like fact and fiction are simply superfluous.

And she found herself waking up on that shore, surrounded in corpse parts that littered the shore like trash, that no matter how the waves wore away at them remained firmly planted in the ground. Arms, legs, heads, gorged arteries, even some scraped out eyeballs and stray genitalia – before the sea of water there was a sea of corpses.

 _It's late._

In the moment she became self aware she started moving. She was filled with the desire to make it to the ocean. For the moment she wasn't sure why, but she had to move, and fast.

As though walking through molasses, she trudged through the pile, crushing many a sorry skull beneath her unnaturally heavy feet. She could feel time slipping away and the urgency that came with it – if she didn't move faster she wasn't going to make it.

 _All my friends are dead._

In her haste she tripped and landed face first in the mass of flesh and bone, doing her best to shield herself as she fell. Fortunately the impact didn't hurt her, but when she opened her eyes she was face to face with a dismembered head. In the few moments she stared at it, she realized it was someone she knew.

Male, short brown hair. Sunglasses. Blood streaming like tears from where his eyes should have been.

She immediately stood and kept moving. But before too long she was stopped, this time by something wrapping itself around her ankle and tripping her.

It was the upper half of the skeleton with one arm missing, dressed like a fireman, that had clung to her with a tiny, bony hand, the holes where its eyes once were wet and worn down, as though the thing had been crying.

 _Don't leave me._

She freed herself from its grasp and kept moving and moving, the ocean never seeming to get any closer.

 _I'm sorry. I can't stop for anyone._

And just like that, the corpse pile came alive, arms and legs moving about on their own, clawing their way to the top in order to stop her. The screams of the dead filled her ears – the dire lamentations of those that had nothing left to them but the pain of ages were carried by the howling wind and rain, spread out across the sky and rocked the sea with their agony. The very surface she walked on started to eat away at her – her feet were cut open and before too long were hemorrhaging dangerously. The tissue and bone beneath her skin were exposed and the fingers grabbing at her latched on to them for dear life. But even so she kept moving.

 _Don't leave me! Don't leave me here, not like this!_

Her left leg gave in first. A familiar, plump head with fat cheeks and no eyes had writhed its way to the surface and severed the last tendon in her ankle with its teeth. A strong, burly arm yanked on what was left of it so hard that the bone beneath snapped and the skin and meat were torn like paper, severing the lower half of her calf and everything lower from the rest of her leg. But even so she kept moving.

 _Why do you get to live? What makes you so special?_

She hobbled along on one leg, using what remained of the other to fend off her pursuers. The waves grew stronger, the wind now blowing against her. Her vision had finally started to fade as her blood steadily seeped from her wounds. The ocean was finally merely a few feet away, and she dared not look back at the small army forming behind her. But even so she kept moving.

 _I haven't died._

After that came a small skeleton, its limbs intertwined with the bones of a large one that despite its size managed to hold her down by the arm. But she pulled as hard as she could in the opposite direction until her arm was torn from its socket. Blood sprayed everywhere and her vision began to cloud with blood. She could only just barely see the ocean now. Even if she made it all the way, she may not have even realized it. But even so she kept moving.

 _Neither have I._

And from the deepest region of the pile came a jade beast, leaping at her and overpowered her instantly, grinding its teeth into her collarbone, tearing away all else around it. She fell backward, hands and legs wrapping themselves around her as she did, pulling her deeper and deeper into the pile. She sank like a rock, pulled into the darkness as the beast continued to devour her, moving from her neck to her chin, slowly shredding the flesh and muscles of her jaw as though savoring it.

 _Don't leave me. Don't leave me ever again._

For a time there was nothing but the wind and rain. The pile lay motionless, the waves roughly splashing against it. And all that was left to her at that point was the pain of ages. There was no sense of time, of place, of being – only the darkness, and only the pain. What parts of her that were even left by then, none could say.

 _Don't die. Don't die. Don't die._

And then a single arm emerged from the mass – a single arm, slowly writhing its way towards the sea unimpeded, inching forward bit by bit like a snail, at the speed of water seeping through marble. It would take decades if not centuries for that small, insignificant arm to reach the waves.

But even so she kept moving.

 _Even if hell will shut its gates to me, I will not die._

The arm had no sense of being or purpose. All that remained was an instinctive desire to move forward. Even if there was no true meaning, it had to be done. One day many years later, the arm did indeed reach the waves and was carried out to sea. And once it had, the arm remembered. The arm remembered the reason.

The arm sank far past the shallows, descending into the ocean, free of the corpses, now moving at a horse's gallop. Before too long it had reached the very bed of the earth, and there it found it –

A corpse. The only corpse that truly mattered. But even so it was just a corpse.

 _Do you remember me? I remember you._

There is almost nothing left – only mere embers of the will that drove her to press on. But those embers have satisfied that goal. But embers are merely embers. To what end can embers do anything but slowly burn out?

In the end, both that question and its answer are meaningless. For when the dream ends, she cannot remember. For when the dream ends, those embers have long since faded.

For when the dream ends there is nothing left but the dream itself. That is the one law of that bottomless sea.

* * *

Light spilled in from the doorway above, blinding the damp, cramped space below. The wet stairs glistening it was as though the sun had finally shone through the darkness at long last – but it was merely a ceiling light, and a rather dim one at that. And she was there in that darkness, chained by her wrists to the ceiling through a low hanging chain, her kimono long since soiled and rotting fleshy bits strewn about the dirt floor around her. Her bones rattled so instinctively to that gentlest of all stimuli it was as though she'd been trapped there for months. Merely three days had passed, yet already the light was so foreign a concept.

From the staircase descended the man with the cane in his hand, his wooden appendage nearly slipping on one of the steps. The one that had greeted her warmly in the main hall on that day. But today his face revealed none of that radiance – only a dreary agony that she could only assume held more truth to it than any other face ever could.

He placed on the floor in front of her an iron pan that contained more of those same fleshy bits – human arteries, fingers, toes – small, bite sized remnants of a human body were given to her like an offering. Wordlessly, he backed away and took a seat on an old wobbly wooden chair in the near corner of the space. She lowered herself to the floor and, freeing her legs from their silk bindings squeezed one piece between her toes and brought it to her mouth.

She could feel the crunch of bone and the slimy dispersal of fat and tissue as she worked on a half a finger, already cut open rather cleanly, which made things easier going. At first the sensation had made her puke, but by now she was so used to it that it didn't matter. It was rather difficult to chew through the skin, so often times she found herself separating it from the rest of the meat in her mouth and bringing her mouth to her hands to safely remove it along with the larger bone fragments. The tiny ones she swallowed often, but they weren't large enough for her to choke on. Nearly three minutes it took to completely finish off the finger, the remnants of which joined the other leftovers on the floor. And without any sign of hesitation she moved on to the next piece as though she was enjoying a well cooked meal.

Just how quickly had she been broken? How could anyone after such a short span of time be able to do such a thing with so little thought?

Perhaps it was simply because she hadn't been broken in the darkness of that cellar, hidden deep beneath the Sonozaki estate, in a region of the catacombs even she, who had spent much of her young life exploring the reaches of those dark hallways, had no knowledge of.

No, what she was experiencing now only followed naturally from what she had been living with up until that point. It was not as though she was particularly hung up over the difference.

The man sat there and simply watched her in silence as she went through the entire plate, a process that took nearly an hour in her state. Grotesque noises filled the air, yet he did not provide any kind of reaction to any of it. Only when she had finished did he open his mouth to speak. But before he could make a sound she started speaking.

"I want to see my sister." She announced without an ounce of emotion in her voice.

"It can't be done." He answers plainly.

"Then let me see Kei-chan."

"Also impossible."

In truth, she already knew what answer she was going to get – after all, she'd made the same demands every time she was brought her food. And just as repeatedly, the response was the same in both wording and tone. In a way, it was their way of greeting each other.

"Mion is still safe. That much I can promise you." He continued. "She dyed her hair as requested. I've had my best men keeping track of her at all times on top of that. She hasn't told anyone a thing, and she's finally agreed to help us keep visitors off the estate grounds. For now it's a very containable situation."

"I suppose you've gotten nowhere with mother."

"No, she seems perfectly content with leaving you in this state. I didn't expect her to have the greatest of upbringings with that old demon raising her, but her stubbornness is quite a thing to behold. Honestly, I wonder if she has even the slightest perception of the kind of position you're in. It might reach the point where we'll have to bring her down here in person."

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small photograph and tossed it on the floor in front of her. It was a picture of two children – a softly smiling boy with blonde hair, and a beaming girl with jade hair, dressed in swimwear at the beach with the ocean at their backs.

"Let's start here for today. Tell me about the boy."

"I don't know who he is."

"What about the beach? Can you tell me where that photo was taken?"

"It's just a beach. That could've been taken anywhere."

"Then who is the girl in that picture?"

"I don't know."

"...I see. More of this, huh?" He fell silent for a few moments before changing his approach. "Up until now I've given you the benefit of quite a substantial doubt. But as I'm sure you're aware there is very much a limit to how long that is going to last."

"Then just kill me already." She whispered.

"Please, there's no sense in trying to fool me, child. You have no intention of dying here – your life is a precious thing, even more so now that you have some hope in your heart that the boy in that picture is still alive. And though you'll doubt this, above all else I intend to reunite the two of you. And not in the confines of a box like this, but out in the sun – just as you two were in that picture."

"By now it should be obvious – there's no version of this incarceration that ends with you going free because you won't talk. Either you die in here, or your cooperate and persist in this world for a while longer. There's no _reason_ for this to go on in such a way. So please... Tell me his name – tell me who he is. We're nearly out of Kasai to feed you. Don't make me have to end another life to satisfy your own ego."

He'd said his name. A name she wasn't prepared to hear quite just yet. "If you really cared so much – then how could you possibly have forgotten?!" She nearly shouted.

For a moment the man was speechless. "Ah, you're angry about him, aren't you? I'm not surprised – the two of you were close, after all. But he brought that fate upon himself, don't you see?"

"He was doing his job."

He approached her slowly, grabbing the chain and yanking on it pulled her to her feet. "If you don't start cooperating someone else will die. Someone else you _love_ will die. If I must I'll bring them here and kill them right in front of you. You can stop that bloodshed with a single name."

"I can't understand you."

"I'm not asking you to understand me. I'm asking you for a name. I want to know _who he is_."

"You didn't answer my question."

He stared at her in silence for a few choice moments, and then what must have been a low gasp escaped his lips. "...You don't remember either, do you?"

"No, that's not..."

"Absurdity. A man died to conceal a truth as meaningless as _that_?"

"Please, no it's not like that, I -" It was already too late – she'd started panicking, shaking at the mere acknowledgment of something she'd already done.

Every piece of meat she'd swallowed, the chunks left on the floor – she couldn't think of any of them without remembering his face. Without remembering the day she'd learned about how he loved to cook, or the day he saved her life on her way home from work, or the day he'd promised that he would always be on her side.

She was hit with a torrent of feelings that she couldn't process – even were she not in such a reduced state.

"This isn't acceptable... No, my terms still stand. You will give me that boy's name, or someone you love will die. You have twelve hours."

"Please, no, I swear, I don't – I don't know! _I can't remember!_ " She wailed, clinging to the man desperately. "Please don't... Please, I'll starve if that'll make you happy, just don't kill anyone else... Don't make me – don't make me, please...!"

But he ignored her and wrenching her off of him stormed up the stairs, cursing as he lost his balance and stumbled for a moment. But before too long he had left her and so had the light – and she was alone in the darkness once more, with nothing but that image from so very long ago to keep her company.

It was all the truth – she couldn't remember. Not his name, and without the image only barely his face.

Someone she loved more than anything else in the world – someone she couldn't remember. She gave up something very important – something very precious to her for that boy's sake. And she couldn't remember what _that_ was, either. In truth that image was all the proof she had that he even existed to begin with. She couldn't remember – but until that moment, until he'd made her say it, she couldn't bring herself to accept it. Because she knew it would break her.

But ultimately she was already broken. She cannibalized someone she cared about in order to survive. She had broken down crying and screaming and It was as though that boy and everything that tied her to him had simply been swallowed whole by the earth.

Or perhaps it was the depths of that sea that had claimed him – depths from which something so fragile and beautiful could return only in the wildest of dreams.

She decided that she would try – she would try to dream of him. To find some way to call him back. For that was all that could be done.

* * *

In the end she could not recall his name, and the limping man delivered on his promise. What she could only have assumed was twelve hours later, a man she had yet to see before appeared, wearing a familiar old gas mask that she had not seen since the turn of the decade.

In his arms was Hana, Shion's prized kouhai from the schoolhouse. Shion was quiet compared to her sister, and had been for a very long time. At one point the younger children used to take advantage of that by making her uncomfortable. She was one of the big kids, yet she was no less vulnerable than any of them were. But not Hana – not that sweet girl, who looked up to her more so than she looked up to her own sister.

That poor child's eyes were puffed and streaks of tears stained her cheeks. It wasn't apparent if she could even see anything in that dark space – all she did was very quietly whisper for someone to help her. She wanted nothing more than to hold the child close to her – but all she could do was sit there, violently shaking her chains and begging the man to let her go.

He dropped her on the floor with a loud thud and holding her down with his foot as she began kicking and hoarsely screaming, drew back a short axe and without warning brought it down.

There was silence for a moment, and then a wave of relief, as the man had only chopped at her hair. Shion called out to her, and the girl replied – only a moment later, her head was free from her shoulders, rolling its way across the wet floor and into Shion's lap.

The next four hours were spent watching the man carve up that child with a cleaver through the light from up above while cradling her head with her legs. At first she had protested, but before too long she returned to her silence. She could not look away – she had failed, and for that the girl had lost her life.

At first she refused to eat. She let the pail of fleshy pulp sit there, the stench causing her to cough up a few clumps of Kasai from the night before. She had seen her die. She had watched the butcher carve her into pieces. She could vividly recall where each and every piece of meat was cut from. She could manage eating her dear friend because she had no proof that it was really his meat she was eating – but this was impossible.

And so she sat there, the pangs of hunger gripping her. And as the hours went on they grew worse and worse, but even then she did would not eat.

Eventually it came to the point where she was slipping in and out of consciousness, passing out briefly from the malnourishment. She could lap up some of the moistness off the floor even if she had to do so off her feet, and so she could stay alive, but only just. She had no perception of the time of day anymore – she could have been in there for weeks at that point. Her sister might have already been dead. For all she knew Hinamizawa could have been a ruin by then.

There were no further visits from the limping man. She was left there alone to slowly die.

What came next, after what had to at least have been six days in, was delirium. She could no longer tell the difference between water and her own urine. The rotting meat had long since starting suffocating her, but to her that smell was now the only smell that there could ever be. The form of Hana's face had sagged and maggots now crawled over her once soft skin.

Very suddenly the door swung open. Light spilled into the cavern for the first time in so very long. In the doorway above stood her mother. She was looking down into the darkness – down at her precious daughter. Shion still knew who she was. And so called out to her. Surely she had given in – surely she was going to free her from those confines at the cost of her family's honor.

Once, then twice, then three more times – but no matter how much she cried out her mother did not move from the doorway or so much as make a sound. Before too long –

Before too long the door was slammed shut. And once more she was left there in the darkness alone, forgotten and abandoned.

Hot tears fell from her eyes – she lapped up their salty mixture for the sake of nourishment as the last bit of her humanity slipped away. It was not long after that she gently bit into the chewy slush that remained of Hana's head. There were some bits of hair left that were caught in her teeth, and there wasn't very much meat left on the skull.

At some point she bit into the brain and immediately hurled everything she had managed to eat, soiling her kimono even further. Merely moments later she reached for the bucket and started to chew at things she was used to eating. It took awhile, but a leg, a thigh and two hands later the pangs of hunger finally faded away. She could at long last think again, though her thoughts were far from coherent.

In her mind two things stood out more than anything else.

Okinawa. Seventy-Eight. _I'm dying._

She spoke the words to herself, as though to attempt to understand their meaning. But in the end the only memory she could associate with them was fragmented. She remembered a pale convertible, and three children – no, there were four, and she was the fourth. Four children.

Four. There were four. She took another bite of Hana's left thigh. There was more than enough meat on her legs alone to last a day and a half.

 _I'm going to die._

There were four there, on Okinawa.

 _Mother killed me. She hates me. She always did._

There were two boys and two girls – no, it was three boys, and she was the girl. There was a chaperone, an adult. Was it a man or a woman? Another bite, another piece of that memory resurfaced.

 _I'm eating Hana-chan. I'm eating Hana-chan._

Her chest felt hot as she lapped up some of the fat that gushed from a hole she'd made. It didn't taste all that different from animal fat – it was actually rather tasty. Of course mere moments later the soft, feces-like structure of the large intestine she bit into after that tasted much like ramen noodles at that point.

 _You're going to forget me. Don't forget me._

Then she remembered it all, but her train of thought was no longer consistent. She knew, yet at the same time she couldn't convey it. Things were happening so fast – unnaturally so. She was remembering and forgetting things at an alarming rate, as though each bite into the blasted remains of that sweet girl quite literally ripped a piece of her sanity from her.

But even then she ate and ate, and ate she did until there was nothing left but the snapping of her jaw and the wet sounds that came from her flapping lips and from between her legs.

And suddenly her hands were free from the chain and she was clinging to the wall on the far side of the room as though her life hung in the balance. The floor was covered in hamburgers, each of varying size and preservative bloating, the patties sizzling as though they were on an open grill. And then her feet began to burn as though standing on the same coils herself.

In the end, succumbing to insanity was very much like falling asleep – at first it came to her bit by bit in a haze, but then all at once like a truck. She had been there in the darkness for six years, eating away at meat that was only supposed to last her twelve centuries.

And so it turned out that _she did leave_ the phone off the hook, and there was in fact a second Evita poem that Mion went out on a date with Tanimura-senseipai to go drink, and though she wanted to eat it herself she was gently reclined to sleep on Kenji's pain of ages instead, so he wouldn't be _allowed t_ o read it for another cranberry days because Grandfather _Sacchan_ only let her go _out af_ ter midday when Ryugu's grand order was starting to defecate over _Eight_ Hails to _Caesar_ , eternally _shifting_ the carpet as she did so. However, she at most had _Miyo's_ Bronze Chef book to watch, which was always never anything always worth dealing with never, much like any letter of the songs Saionji's sister's father's brother's friend's former roommate had let her steal one Febuvember against her worst opinion.

 _Can you… hear me?_

Despite nothing she closed her father's bike when she wasn't watching or reading and gave it to Teppei's grandson who just so happened to be a

 _My dearest child, can you_

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"Gwc owbbi aig qb wcb twcl wz qb lwmav'b kwcvb!" Apm xwcbml atqopbtg, jwcvkqvo izwcvl pqu. "Gwc kiv lw qb! Gwc owbbi jm ioozmaaqdm!"

"Q eivb bw - Q eivb bw jm bpmzm nwz ug aqabmz. Kwvkmzvqvo ugamtn eqbp ug wev pixxqvmaa, epqtm mdmzg lig itt apm kiv lw qa lzwev qv pmz wev ailvmaa - qb qav'b zqopb. Vw uibbmz epib, Q eivb bw uism pmz pixxg."

Apm eia bww gwcvo bw cvlmzabivl bpib sqvl wn innmkbqwv. Qv nikb, pm eia bww gwcvo ia emtt, bw cvlmzabivl epib twdqvo awumwvm []bpib eig[] epib []vw uibbmz epib[] bzctg mvbiqtml.

Jcb bpmzm wv bpm apwzm wn bpib diab wkmiv bpib ammuml bw bziqt wnn qvbw mbmzvqbg, apm auqtml ib pqu.

"Gmip, Q eivvi xzwbmkb Apqwv bww. Bpib'a epib jqo aqjtqvoa tqsm ca owbbi lw."

"Q'u otil gwc cvlmzabivl."

"Jcb-" Apm ntqksml pqa vwam lmaxqbm pqa xzwbmab. "Bpib lwmav'b umiv bpmzm'a vw zwwu nwz Aibwapq-scv!"

"Q lwv'b lwcjb gwc nwz mdmv i amkwvl. Jcb qa ug pmizb zmittg jqo mvwcop nwz bew xmwxtm...?"

"Aibwapq-scv kiv nqb bpm epwtm ewztl qv pqa pmizb! Bpib'a jmkicam pm'a ackp i owwl xmzawv!" Ivwbpmz dwqkm, bpm dwqkm wn awumwvm

Amm? Q̵̡̯̯̞̂̀͐̽͂͐̀̃͘͜͜͢͞e̷͖͇̺̘͓̟̜̱̎̐̊̃̓͒į̛̗̭̙̣̣͔͇̺̥̏̿́̂͐̈́̕͡q̶̩͇̖̗̘͆͗͌̏̍͆͊̏͡p̶̡̣̳̱̦̳̯̈́͊͊͐͊͐͞q̨̱̰̜͉̭̙͑͛́̄̅̿̚͟͡ṳ̷̧̡̝̩̝͐́̃̀̑͊̆̚m̨͎̠̦̬̏̉̌͌̅̄̌̕͢ bpqvsa aw bww. Aw lwv'b jm inziql, Aibwapq-scv. Jm abzwvo. Jmkicam qn gwc nitt lwev ivl kiv'b omb cx, vw wvm eqtt jm bpmzm bw aidm gwc. Vwb mdmv bpib oqzt. Vwb mdmv gwcz aqabmz.

Jm abzwvo.

A̢̢͕͙̤̰̍̄̽̃͜͝b̛͈͎̟͉̳̍͑̽́͛́z̧̥̟̝͙̣̝̒̀̆̾̌̌͐͢͞w̡̱̝͍̻͂̉́͗̓̒̓̕͝͠v̵̪͔̯̠̜̭͉͂̃̽͒̋͆̚̕͠͡ͅo̶͔̮͚̬͎͍͊̎̏̽͌͗͡ͅ m̶̩͚̼̫̳̲̰͈̄͋̊̓̈́̓̌̚̕͜͝ͅv̟̲̞̤̦̥͈̀̄̅̎̆̌͟͜͜͞w̤̲̺͓͍͓͕̦͗͊͑̓͋̒͞͡c̛͒̾͂̒̇͆͆́ỏ̌p̧̨̛̫̪͙̣͚̞̼̂̽́͗͑͑͐̀̑ b̶̧̝̦̯̠͍͙̈́͌̀̒̋͐͑̕͝w͗͒̑͒̿̌ l͔̰͉̣̣̝͚͖̟̎́͛̌͊̿̿̀͘͜m̴̪̖̼̦͖͋́͛̓̊̆̚̚͠n̴̲̹͕͓̍͊́͂̏͜͝m̴͓̦̭̠͇̦̪̌̃̂̓̄͟i̛͔̣̤̮̬͐͑̄͒͐̑̆͒b̢̨͓̬̺̳̱̼̒̊͂̓̓̔̍̑̚͢͝ u̶̳̞͕̹͉̼͓͛̅̍́͌̑̕͘̚͢͞m̭̼̩̖̑͛͑̅̚͜͠͞.̢̳̹̘̤̼̳̟̰͗̾̓̽͆͆͞͞͠

* * *

 _The Third Night_

In the darkness of the tool shed, three people conspired in secret.

"Are you sure?"

"Some of the children saw it happen, but they weren't able to identify the man." Natsumi Kimiyoshi, the first, was standing there with her arms crossed, her expression harsh.

"What a sin…" And before them was Takumi Furude, whose usual warm friendliness had been stifled by great concern.

"Oji-san, if you know anything, please tell me." She tried to plead with him in her usual voice, though betrayed by her expression as it was.

"Everything's quiet on this front. The monks haven't moved from the mountains, the mikos are resting in their chambers and I assure you I'd know if any of them managed to step out of line. Has Mion told you anything?"

"Nope, we can't get a lick out of her." Keiichi Maebara, the boy at her side spoke in a far more typical tone of voice. "I've been under the impression that things are fairly normal for her over there but if shit like this is happening at night she has to be lying pretty hard."

"What about her guard? Sekiguchi, was it?"

"He's been in open arguments with other men at the estate. If there's anyone we're going to get answers out of, it'll be him." Natsumi explained almost robotically.

"Is that what Mion told you?"

"Would accept any kind of word from anyone else." Keiichi nodded in agreement. "Are we even sure it's one of those men that did it?"

"I can assure you this family isn't involved, and I'm taking Natsumi's word with regards to her father being related, so unless the beggars found another way in there aren't any other parties at play around here."

"But they're very clearly drawing attention to themselves – if they were planning on kidnapping children they'd be a bit more discreet about it. Well, at least I would."

"I understand your confusion, Keiichi-kun. Have either of you seen their leader?"

"A man with a cane. I've seen him with both black and blonde hair. He sleeps in bed with a gas mask and makes periodic trips to the underground ruin underneath the estate."

"H-How the hell do you know all of that?"

"A gas mask?"

"I don't know much more about it besides that… Is something wrong?"

"Ahh… What a fool she is. But I suppose it's finally time."

"Oji-san, if there's –"

"Listen – I know it will be difficult to do so because of our history together, but I need an audience with your father, Natsumi."

"My father?"

"Tell him I will meet with him on behalf of my wife. It will be impossible to bring a Sonozaki representative to the table that he will be willing to meet with, but we must try to vie for Mion's involvement as well."

"Keeping something from the head of the family is unwise," Natsumi warned.

"By the time I see my wife again it will already be too late. If a child has gone missing Kimiyoshi-san will no doubt pass orders down to you children to storm the estate."

"I know you won't like me saying this, but right now that seems like the ideal situation." Natsumi replied.

"If you head in there now and demand answers you will in all likelihood get yourself killed."

"They can try."

Takumi shook his head and sighed. "I need you to treat my request with respect. Just this once."

"…Fine, but don't expect a positive outcome."

"Excellent. In the meantime… Yes, you're the only one I can leave this with." Takumi crouched down in front of his makeshift bed and drew a long wooden box from underneath it.

"Wait, that's the thing we –"

"Yes, I had Keiichi-kun help with moving this parcel here from the tower cellar. My knees have been in awful shape as of late."

"What is it?"

"See for yourself."

He opened the box and inside was, typically enough, a tool – but upon closer inspection, it wasn't the sort of tool a farmer would have on hand.

"…Is that a meat cleaver? Like, the old as shit medieval kind?" Keiichi eyed the object, almost mystified.

"Not exactly. What it truly is happens to be much sicker than that."

Apparently that was good enough for her. Natsumi's hands glided along the cutting tool as her eyes marveled at its greatness – it was made not of iron or steel, but rather of all things a silvery substance, and its flat edge shone brilliantly in the moonlight filtering through the doorway, though hampered by the bandages wrapped around it. The blade was thicker than that of a typical cleaver, nearly an inch and a half in width. Along the side of the grip just beneath the base she found a small, unexpected groove which sagged under the pressure of her fingers.

The blade of the cleaver suddenly split into two, jutting out and curving upward, extending the cleaver's length considerably. The extended edge was armed with sharp teeth that tore through the bandages as it swung.

"What on earth…?"

"It's made of siderite. Its magnetic properties allow for the blade to extend at will. You can set it by holding down the groove which weakens the magnetic pull – it'll snap back into place itself. You lose some of its impact strength, but the teeth can penetrate Kevlar and the snapping itself carries enough force to tear through most things. It's an old thing – a relic from our family tree."

"Why are you giving this to me?"

His only reply was curt and to the point. "You're going to need it."


	5. Oittbrk

_Chapter 5 : Oittbrk_

"A little harder, now."

She did as she was told, breathing in and out so her chest would rise and fall.

"That's good. Try to relax a bit more. I need to take your pulse after this, after all."

She closed her eyes and focused on the sound of her own heartbeat. She shivered for a moment and her eyes felt heavy, but her focus returned not a moment later. The man in front of her moved the stethoscope gently across her skin, stopping every few seconds to make note of any and all inconsistencies in her soft breathing.

"Did Irie-sensei tell you anything different during your last checkup?"

"Nothing he doesn't usually say."

"Hm... No, I suppose he'd know more about this than I would." The man laughed.

"T-There's nothing wrong, right?"

"No, no, as far as this old farmer can tell you, you're perfectly healthy, Satoko-chan."

"But I felt faint, just now – are you _sure_ that's okay?"

"Yes, don't worry, I promise you're just fine."

"Then don't trail off mysteriously like that!" She snapped at him.

"Understood, ma'am. Don't forget we need to take your blood pressure."

"O-Ok, fine, just get it over with."

It was a typical procedure – one that she was very used to, yet bothered by every time. She was always afraid that some hidden disease would suddenly pop up during one of these examinations, much like most children her age when it came to doctor appointments.

"There, you seem just fine – you're good to go for today."

"Are they gonna let me through the gate this time, or what?"

"I already told them you were coming. Just don't expect it to be this easy all the time – there's only so many favors I can pull out of the monks."

"Ok, thanks, Furude-san."

"No problem – just make sure you check back with Irie-sensei when you come back, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I've got it." She turned to leave, but before she could make it out the door the question that had been stuck in her throat the entire visit finally managed to surface. "Um, Furude-san, have you seen Rika at all lately?"

"Hm... I might've spotted her on her way home from school the other day, but that's about it." A moment later his pleasant expression seemed to soften considerably. "Is there something wrong?"

"Uh... Geez, she's not gonna be happy if I talk about this."

"If you think telling me anything will cause her any unneeded stress, then don't worry about it."

"But you're her -"

"Don't worry about that aspect, okay? Rika is very much an independent woman, even at her age." He said with a laugh. Even Satoko could tell that it was just a bit forced.

Takumi Furude wasn't the sort of man that wanted people to worry about him – in fact, he was perfectly satisfied with the idea of devoting his entire life to such a mind numbing, yet arduous task as tending to the Furude clan's fields.

Satoko did not know the logic behind the way he felt, only that he felt that way. She was always afraid of bringing up Rika in his presence because all sensibility told her that he should be uncomfortable around such a topic, yet time and time again he showed nothing more than a disturbing indifference that even the children could pick up on. As such he was mostly left out here alone unless he was playing his position – which he rarely did – or entertaining Mion's club members – which he rarely did.

All that she could do was convey what she was thinking. "Well, really I'm just worried about her. She's not eating as much as she used to, and she's hanging around the younger girls an awful lot too – Mion-san thinks she's gonna leave the club and Keiichi-san doesn't think she's healthy either, so -"

"I see. Maybe I should talk to her, then."

"U-Um, you don't have to if you don't want to. I mean -"

"I understand perfectly – she _is_ my daughter; perhaps it's time I tried conveying that to her a little more strongly. Thank you for your concern, though – Rika's blessed to have friends like you that worry about her in her parents' stead." Despite how hard a blow he'd just dealt to himself, he still carried that eerie smile. It was only just a smidge, but she was scared by it.

With that she was gone, the tension too much for her to handle. She sighed – it was always hard to approach anyone about Rika, her father most of all.

On her way down the road she spied a house with an old couple she knew somewhat well standing just outside, the wife with her face in her hands and the husband holding onto her tightly. Lodged into their front door was a lengthy note, staked to it with a dagger – she knew without even looking that it was an eviction notice, courtesy of the Powers That Be. It had been quite a long time since she'd seen one of those – she was convinced that no one else could have possibly been forced outside the wall, but it seemed as though the establishment had little care for what the profaned village just beyond its barrier did with itself.

She did not approach them – instead she merely continued down the road to her destination, knowing that nothing she could say would ever be able to help.

The Powers That Be, as far as Satoko knew from Rika's frequent lectures, consisted of the highest tier of key family representatives that locked themselves in the Furude Tower at all hours of the day and mediated over the state of the village and every last one of its residents. At first their involvement in the village's function, particularly with regards to the younger generations was little more than an annoyance – a loud demanding voice that was easy to tune out for those that did not truly respect the old traditions of the village. But one day that suddenly changed – the wall was built, the unworthy cast out in the rain, and the Powers That Be became a ruthless force that operated the village from the shadows of the highest point in the land.

Any and all word that came from the Powers That Be naturally came through a cutout. The note-leaving daggers were placed by an unknown agent. The new legislature that was posted by the schoolhouse seemingly at the start of every other weeks was similarly left there by the school principle, who received his orders from a Furude miko. And, most importantly, was the Kimiyoshi Fire Department, which was essentially the right arm of the organization, yet operated entirely on information fed to Kiichiro Kimiyoshi through yet another representative.

The fire department was in effect operated almost entirely by super humans, and the Powers That Be were essentially their retainers. There was a time when an old villager that had struggled for a great many years to maintain his property under the heavy taxing of the Sonozaki family had broken the curfew to work late hours. He was discovered by Noro, the Sonozaki family's Grey Fox, seemed to take great pleasure in reporting him to the higher ups that just as eagerly shattered his life and drove his family into exile. In a blind rage the man drove an old spear through Noro's chest, though in a cruel reversal he was the one that ended up bleeding to death on the other end. Some say there was never a scar on Noro, neither front nor back. Some that claimed to have seen the scuffle further testified that he didn't even bleed. Only that the spear clearly had pierced his bones, yet slid out with the greatest of ease, as though there were nothing inside of him to begin with. And yet, he answered to the Powers That Be, as though that faceless and nameless group of people had some sort of power over him.

These days most of Hinamizawa's villagers were fairly wealthy, and as Mahamatsuri grew and the village managed to pay off most of the damages caused by the rioting from '79 that the government demanded the taxation was forced to scale back. There was no slum, there was no shelter – those were the sorts of thing that only existed beyond the wall. In truth a by no means negligible percentage of Mahamatsuri's beggars were villagers who could no longer afford to live on the premises of the village. The majority of them had been put there by the fire department directly.

It was for one such villager that she was there on that particular day, wading through the reeking pit that was the profaned symbol of the pain of ages, eyed from all sides by its inhabitants. It was particularly dangerous for children on this side of the wall – whether they were boy or girl was entirely irrelevant. There was no escaping the suffocating covetousness that defined the lives of these people.

She'd wrapped herself as tightly as possible to conceal her face. She was wearing old and worn rags that she held onto for this very purpose. At one point she'd considered walking in heels, but that would've been far too conspicuous.

She was leaving the village soon, in six days, in fact – carted off with her mother to some far off city she hadn't bothered to ask the name of at the end of yet another bad break up. Every year or so there was a new Mr. Houjou, and every year or so the one prior would end up doing something stupid. And she was growing up incredibly quickly and as such had virtually no patience for any of it any longer.

In this particular event, the break up was costing them their house. It was, of course, the Powers That Be that willed it, and had forcibly passed ownership of the property to her mother's ex.

At one point she'd been afraid, as though her mother despised her. But she knew now without a doubt that it was her mother that should be despised. And so she came to hate her as she had come to hate her various fathers. The night she learned her days in Hinamizawa were numbered, in a blind, yer rather sullen rage she passed off her innocence to the only boy she knew to trust it with. She didn't quite love him, especially knowing that before too long she'd never see him again. But she hated her mother so that the only way she could relieve any of that frustration was through sex - something she barely understood to begin with.

The person she had to meet on this day wasn't going to be around for much longer either – she had to see them before she left, and now was the only chance she'd have.

Mahamatsuri's tallest structure was the Dim Tower, a stack of scaffolding and shipping containers built vertically along the side of the wall that was used as a sort of lookout as well as storage of emergency food and supplies that was guarded by the tower's two crows, old Sonozaki bodyguards that had seen better days but were still licensed to carry firearms and seemingly never had to leave their posts to so much as urinate. The only reason why the tower was still standing was because of the two of them.

Upon her approach she wasn't shot at – in fact the two old crows didn't so much as glance in her direction. They could recognize her by her tatters, even though she wasn't out here all that often and there were plenty of people around her dressed much the same. In reality the two were huge softies, though they didn't hesitate to fire upon anyone that posed a visible threat. They never shot to kill.

The tower was also used to house pregnant women that were struggling with the carrying process or actively in labor, and those that were too sick to interact with the other villagers. Incidentally there were very few of the latter, but a whole tier of the tower was devoted to housing the former.

She knew exactly which bed she'd be sleeping at and without even pulling her covers from her gently tapped on her shoulder.

After a few moments, the figure beneath the soggy quilt squirmed around before falling still. She sighed and shook more violently this time.

Emerging from the covers was a young girl, no older than she was, with half of her champagne hair missing and the corresponding region of her cranium scarred severely, with one eye covered by a fresh looking eyepatch. Similar burn marks were etched over her fingers and toes, though her arms and legs were smooth and tight.

And her stomach was bloated unnaturally, moreso than it had been when she'd last seen her. She had perhaps five more months left in her before the small monstrosity that dwelled within burst forth and inevitably killed her.

But even so, her face was childlike and her voice was sweet. "Satoko?" She groaned, before smiling happily despite her droopy eyes. "Oh, good morning, Satoko."

"Let's get you out of here. I've got all day today."

"But don't you have school?"

"Heh, there's no worrying about pointless stuff like that."

"But if you don't go to school you'll -"

"Things are different now – I promise it'll be fine, okay? So let's go!" She tugged on her arm. Apparently that was all the frail girl needed to cooperate. With a brief moment of hesitation, she stood up on her wobbly legs and taking Satoko's hand began to move.

The two descended the tower, one of the crows eying them carefully as they proceeded off into the distance along the wall, further away from the villagers, Satoko leading the girl by the hand as she began to adjust herself to the atypical pace she was moving at.

It was always like this – her body had been very weak for most of her life, and all the fire did was make things worse for her. Despite that she still wore her green sundress proudly and carried herself like any other girl once she managed to find her bearings.

But what tormented Satoko deeply was the _way_ she carried herself. Because that way wasn't her own – it was something taken from someone else. Or, more accurately, something she clung to like a surrogate for something that she had lost.

This girl was obscured for that very reason, and to that day remained one of Hinamizawa's darkest secrets. Yet here she was, smiling weakly and doing the best she could to enjoy her friend's company.

Ultimately they came to a rest on a patch of grass free from the trees of the surrounding area alongside the river that ran under the wall and into the village. The stifling atmosphere of the village was no place for either of them – out here it was far more peaceful, though there was always a chance that they would end up encountering someone attempting to deal drugs or have sex in the woods. This was not a world meant for children, yet it was a world that so many were born into.

"Ahh, it's so nice out today..." The girl sighed, taking in the breeze.

"Really? It's, like, way too cold for the summer."

"I think it feels just right." The girl smiled, closing her eyes. "Oh, I know – this is like how it was at the beach!"

"When did you go to the beach?"

"You don't remember? We went with all our friends!"

"Huh, really...? You sure you didn't just dream that up or something?"

"Of course not! Why would I...?" The girl sat down on the damp grass and stared at the sky with a bit of a puzzled expression. "But... I don't really remember it very well. But I know it happened. Everyone was there... Even..." She suddenly clutched at her head, to which Satoko reacted by gently rubbing your shoulders.

"Hey, it's okay. Geez, thinking about dumb things too hard is bad for you, you know that."

"Heehee, I'm sorry... Oh!" She gasped, her face brightening considerably.

"What's up?"

"He kicked just now!"

Satoko's immediate reaction was concern, but she tried her best to hide it. The girl beamed at her expectantly and naturally saw through it.

"Oh, no, it's okay, this is normal. This is what it's like for every mother when the baby's big enough."

"A-Ah, yeah, I see. So, what are you gonna name him?"

"Ah that's right, I just remembered – I came up with a name yesterday!" She smiled, rubbing her bulging stomach gently. "I'm gonna call him Satoshi."

"That name again, huh?" Satoko sighed.

Satoshi. The name of a made up boy this girl had created in her head. It came up an awful lot whenever the two of them spoke.

"I would've named him after papa, but he definitely wouldn't like that." She paused for a moment, struggling to find the words that ultimately followed. "Well, actually, maybe that's not completely true."

"What's up?"

"Well, I… I know I'm going to be separated from him very soon. I won't get to see him more than once – to be honest, I'm really scared. I don't know what's gonna happen to him, being born out here – the more I think about it the worse it feels."

"Hey, you don't have to worry about any of that – he'll come out of you just fine, I swear."

"Of course I'd trust you, but you're not going to be coming to visit me anymore after today."

"I- Who told you a thing like that?"

"Papa came to see me the other day. I was so happy." She ignored her inquiry, continuing to ramble while gazing off into the distance. "He said my baby would be born healthy as long as I keep taking the medicine. But when I asked him if he could live on the other side of the wall he couldn't answer me. Papa is such an honest person – he couldn't hide his feelings from me even though he tried really hard. If I have to die, I at least want my baby to have a chance at something better than what I have. But it's not going to be easy for him – even if he gets lucky, even if he gets to live on the other side. He has to be strong – that's why I'm naming him after the bravest boy I know."

"It… might not be that way."

"I can feel it. Every day he's growing, and papa's medicine isn't helping as much as it used to. This pain isn't going to suddenly go away. All I want to do – all I can do is give birth, and see my child with my own eyes, even if just once."

"But that's – that's just…"

"I've always been waiting… Ever since that day I've just been waiting here, waiting to die. Parts of me cried out for someone to come save me, but the rest just didn't care. But when I found out he was there – when I knew that I was going to bring someone completely new into the world, I could finally smile again. Who I was before, the things that had happened to me – suddenly none of them mattered. All this body is fit for is bearing Satoshi-kun, and that's all that it needs to be… I want you to find something too, Satoko-chan. I want you to find something worth living for, something that you can carry with you away from this place that you can be happy about."

"Hom…"

"Hm? Who's that?"

"I-It's nothing, I was just… I was just saying something to myself."

"Geez, are you even listening to me?"

"Every word... I don't think there's anything like that. At least, not anywhere around here."

"What about that boy?"

"Huh?"

"You know, that boy you said you were spending a lot of time with."

"O-Oh, _that_ boy..."

She thought hard about the subject – more than she typically did for most other things. In truth, what she felt for Keiichi now was something a little more sophisticated than friendship. She trusted him in a way that was very familiar to her, yet something she couldn't relate to anyone else in her life. And because of that, she knew very little of how powerful those feelings were – if they'd fall apart under the slightest strain, or if they'd last her the rest of her life.

She was more than sure that confronting him about it head on would just make things worse. He was an idiot that was already devoting most of his run time to a job he hated, and no matter what she said to him she couldn't return the light to his eyes. What's more is that everyone around them – all their friends, and even some of the parents – could see the pain within him, yet were so exceptional at hiding it that he might have had yet to realize it himself. He was starting to slip away, that much was certain. Natsumi had a firm grip on him, so he would last a good while longer. But one day he was going to burst. It was an inevitability. And when that happened, he'd probably get himself killed.

Asking him to look to the side at her when he was just barely struggling to hold on was completely unreasonable. All she knew to do was act as though everything were fine. As though things were just as they'd been when he'd first arrived. As though there wasn't someone watching him like a hawk at all hours of the day. But that wasn't enough – she already knew it wasn't enough. He was a teenager, yet she couldn't bring him to any kind of a peak, no matter what she did.

She couldn't pull him away from that greater darkness, and she was going to be forced to give up on him entirely before too long. Perhaps it was better to just let things degrade slowly, instead of all at once. That way, whatever the two of them felt for each other could fizzle out.

"He must be wonderful if you're making that kind of a face thinking about him." The girl suddenly interrupted her train of thought with a soft giggle.

"W-What face?"

"You look really scary right now. That means you really love him. I was the same way once so I know these things."

She didn't have anything to express to that, at least not in words. She cared about Keiichi a great deal – but whether or not that was the sort of love that really mattered wasn't clear. There was most certainly a torch that burned for him, though as dim as it had become.

"Hey, I'm kind of sleepy. Can I rest out here for awhile?" She quickly remembered that this girl was a rather dim light herself as her upper body crumpled to the side all at once, bumping into her like dead weight.

"Sure thing… Like I said, I've got the whole day." She repositioned her so she could get comfortable with much effort.

"That's nice." She snuggled up next to her, resting her head in her lap. "Ah… I'm going to… I'm going to have a baby..." She looked up at her for a moment with one eye open. "Did I… Did I forget to tell you…?"

"No way, silly. You haven't stopped talking about him since you woke up."

"Hm… Yes, that's good." She sighed again. "Keiichi-kun's baby… I'm sure – I'm sure Satoshi will be brave and strong."

* * *

 _The Fifth Night_

Summer is by far the worst time of year. The bugs, the heat, the stagnant air – year after year all of it caused irritation and pain that brought out the worst in everyone. In the summer suicides, murders, rapes and muggings hit their peak. Children make the bulk of their bad decisions, adults crack under pressure. In Hinamizawa, it was really no different – the so called natural order of things was at its weakest in the summer. The Fire Department claimed its largest number of dissenters that it would all year, most of which on liquor possession charges. The beggars worked their hardest to surmount the wall, and the establishment doubled its sentries in reply. The evictions came out in droves as well, as did the relocations and, proportionally, the summons from the Powers That Be.

The summer was a time for thoughtlessness, daring, and reckless abandon. Thus, he was spending this particular night scaling the far wall of the Sonozaki estate, wearing thin layers of black clothing with a completely illegal firearm tucked under his shirt.

 _It's alright, kid. Everyone has to do something they don't believe in eventually,_ Noro had told him as though making some kind of a joke.

The plan was simple sounding on paper – break into the Sonozaki estate, abduct Mion Sonozaki, and above all else, do not be seen. Doing so would force the family to take action against the allegations being piled against them – it was a The gun he had on him carried tranquilizer rounds, and he had so little experience shooting a gun that he'd more likely than not miss if he had to aim at anyone more than a few inches from his face.

He'd done something similar to this once before. He'd broken into an old warehouse with a group of punks, back when he hung around the wrong crowd. He had the climbing aspect down pat, but the rest he was hardly prepared for.

It was very small, nearly microscopic in size at that, but part of him wanted to be there. The part that was sick of standing on the sidelines, letting events proceed around him unimpeded. He knew there was something horrible happening on the other side of this wall, and whenever he so much as glanced in Mion's direction all he could think about was how to bring an end to it. And on this night, of all nights, he was being permitted to act on that feeling. It was a pitiful sort of resolve, but it was resolve nonetheless.

The wall was grooved and therefore easy to scale. But he had to be slow, steady, and silent as the grave – the smallest slip up would lead to a rather obvious outcome. The moment he managed to peek his head over the edge his heart started beating out of his chest.

The Sonozaki estate was a six building square, with the main building and primary housing areas in the center, and further residence essentials including the kitchen and quarters for the servants and help that these days went largely unused on both sides of them. It crawling with suits – all the entrances to all of the buildings were blocked off by at least two men a piece. The windows that were relatively out of sight were barred, and the walkways between buildings were barricaded – he half expected there to be mines buried under the well kept lawn. In any event, there were no ways in. The moment he actually came face to face with that certainty, he immediately wanted to back out.

" _Give us a visual."_ And there was that man's voice again. He was set up with a small radio strapped to his thigh, with a small mic and headset taped against his skin, running the length of his body. Thus far Noro and Natsumi were the only two that had tried to speak to him through it.

"All the entrances are blocked. Can't get to any windows."

" _What about the sentries?"_

"Everyone's got a buddy – this shit isn't going to work."

" _All we need you to do is find Mii-chan. You let us worry about the escape plan."_ Natsumi tried to reassure him. _"You can see her room from there, right?"_

"Yeah, but how the _fuck_ am I going to get over there?"

" _You remember the storehouse we locked you in by accident that one time, right?"_

"Uh, yeah, sort of." There were two small storage sheds packed into the back corners of the grounds – the one Natsumi was referring to was the furthest away from where he was attempting an entry, but circling around wasn't an option – there were too many windows, and therefore potential room for sentries, on that side.

" _There's a cellar down there that has another opening over by the courtyard; it's part of an old section of the tunnels no one uses anymore. There was a small entrance into the main building from underneath the porch the last time I was down there – those men haven't been there long enough to have a complete map of all the tunnels, so they shouldn't know about it yet. You should be able to get in through there."_

There it was – his only ray of hope. He couldn't see the storehouse from where he was, so there was still a chance that it had been left unguarded. As silently as he could he vaulted over the edge of the wall with some issue, his sneakers scraping against the tiling. The sound was more than enough to attract anyone nearby, so he scampered off in the general direction of the storehouse the moment he hit the ground.

The only advantage he had was his entry point – there were few places to watch the section of the wall Natsumi had picked out for him – if he could maneuver fast enough, he should be able to at least move about the shadows without being seen. There were enough trees to hide behind on this far side of the compound near the second storehouse. But if he stepped into the light of the moon for little more than a moment, he would be about as visible as possible.

The storeroom mentioned was fortunately enough left unguarded – but the path there was another story. Across the thirty feet he had to travel there were guards posted near every window, some even staring down at the moonlit lawn intensely. He was dressed entirely in black and as such had some advantage, but with each step he took, with each slight rustling of the grass beneath his feet he felt as though he had already been seen. He could hide in the darkness of the wall, but once he made it into someone's line of sight he would've needed to turn invisible to make it through without the entire compound being alerted all at once.

Eventually he was forced to cross the lawn into the moonlight, sidling along the nearest wall and praying that no one had the initiative to look down. Hands shaking and knees about to buckle, he proceeded slowly and steadily, and upon reaching the other side and marveling at the lack of new holes in his body he dropped to the ground and with a combat crawl proceeded in the direction of the storehouse, drawing ever closer.

There were no shadows – he was about as visible as possible. But there were no windows on this side of the building – instead, he had to worry about the men stationed by the far entrance, who would clearly be able to see him if he stayed put for too long.

"Hey, I've got nothing but open space in front of me. Where the fuck do I go?" He surrendered quickly, talking into his mouthpiece with a higher pitch of voice than he was expecting.

" _How close is the storehouse?"_

"Just a few feet. Feels like half a mile at the rate I'm going."

" _Who can see you?"_

"If I jump out in front like a moron? Two guys at the front gate, another hanging out by the main building that won't stop pacing back and forth – there's probably like six other guys I can't even see."

" _Just listen – watch the one close by and wait till he turns away. The closest cover is the tree on the other side gap, right? Sit there and just wait – listen closely. If there's no reaction after a full minute, you weren't spotted."_

"Yeah if only. Seriously, why the hell am _I_ the one –"

" _You're the only one Mii-chan will go with willingly. Besides, I won't let them do anything to you. I swear."_

"…Right."

What little confidence Natsumi's words had inspired carried him across the opening. He moved as fast as his body could possibly take him, skidding to a halt behind the tree on the far side. He squatted down and shut his eyes, counting away the seconds, his heart beating so fast he was sure a heart attack was imminent.

But there was no movement. Somehow, he had not been seen. He nearly fainted, but he was able to proceed.

The storeroom itself was defended by a sizeable padlock. Curiously enough, he found the lock to have been left undone, merely set in place but not closed. The tension caught in his throat was far too thick for him to think about that fact much more thoroughly, and so he proceeded inside.

There was a man there, dressed like the others down to the slightest detail. However, he was far younger than even Sekiguchi, and his silver hair stood out despite the darkness of the storeroom. He was out cold, sprawled out on top of a group of boxes stacked in the corner, still clutching an empty bottle of some liquor as he snored somewhat audibly. For a moment his heart nearly stopped, but staring at his unruly sleeping face for as long as he did, Keiichi finally found the opportunity to exhale.

The entrance to the cellar rather stood out – there was a trapdoor concealed by a handful of supply boxes that he managed to move out of the way with little issue. The descent into the dusty, cramped space was a bit more complicated – the only path he could take was an old rusted ladder that made all sorts of noise just from his first step. It was a long way down, with each step followed by ten seconds of silence as to not wake the man, but eventually he made it, nearly forgetting to close the trap door behind him.

The cellar was cold and damp, and virtually impossible to see in. He tried polling Natsumi for some indication of where the other entrance was, but all it rewarded him with was static. In the end all he could do was drift in the general direction of the main building. Blindly moving through the darkness he stepped in many a puddle and bumped into a few rather firm objects that he often stumbled over. There was quite a bit of descending, which concerned him to no end, but there was always something to step on in front of him. At least the lack of reaction to the noise he was making verified that no one else was down there with him.

Eventually he hit a wall and felt around for some means of ascension – sure enough there was another old, poorly maintained ladder that he was able to scale with a little more confidence. Pushing at the stone ceiling above him, he found a loose tile that he slowly pushed out of the way.

Light poured into the space, nearly blinding him. Once the tile was moved all the way to the side he slowly poked his head into the opening, he was able to confirm Natsumi's claim. He was directly underneath the main building, or more specifically he was in the proper cellar of it. There was a rather bright light just above him, but he'd been in here enough times to know

He tried to radio Natsumi again, but reception was still untenable. He proceeded through somewhat familiar territory, ascending the cellar steps and freezing in his tracks as light began to pour into the room via the entrance door, that was slowly opening from the other side.

Whatever instinct he drew upon in that moment made him vault over the banister, scrambling to the nearest corner of the room, moments before realizing that he'd never moved the tile back. But it was too late – someone was proceeding down the stairs. Panicking his eyes darted around the room looking for something he could do to hide the opening from view, even if only briefly. In the end, he settled for sliding a box across the floor and over the opening – the box was just large enough to cover the opening, and whoever it was descending the stairs stopped for a moment at the sliding noise, but they hadn't seen the box move. Even if only for a few extra moments, he could think of a way of escaping this situation.

There was fortunately a small space under the stairs that he could just barely conceal himself in. He readied his pistol – the chances of being able to proceed any further like a ghost were horribly slim. He was able to peer around the corner and see who it was that had made their way down the stairs -

What his brain wasn't quite ready to process was the person in question being Mion, her red hair let down and frenzied. Mere moments later someone else started down the stairs as well.

"Anything?" It was an old, fairly raspy voice he'd never heard before.

"Nope. Should've just taken my word for it. I know the layout of this shit better than anyone. No one's gonna come in from down here." Mion replied – though her voice was of a tone she'd never spoken with before. She sounded like an annoyed woman in her mid twenties – even when she was annoyed, her voice always came out a bit more playful than it was right now. Hell, the more she spoke the larger the boyish ripples in her voice became.

"Surely you understand – the slightest sound needs a thorough investigation."

"No one's going to find my sister down here."

" _Your sister_ , eh? Didn't we emphasize how important it is to separate one identity from the other?"

"What about _you_?"

"I have no other identity."

"Hm, well, in any case there's not much of a point to my _other_ identity, is there?"

"What do you mean?"

"Being Mion is fun. Being so-and-so from who-cares-where never worked in my favor. Not once. "

"Clearly you don't believe that entirely. Else you wouldn't be raping the maids."

"What's that mean? Mion's one hell of a sexual deviant." She sighed with frustration. "Hey, speaking of, is she still all fucked in the head or can I start rocking her world?"

"No. She's going to stay right where she is."

"That's pretty lame, you know? Can I at least jerk her off or something?"

"No."

"Hm... You're gonna have a real hard time enforcing that. 'specially with that hole on the first floor under the mat."

"You found it already, huh...?" The man sighed.

She made her way back up the stairs, but the man stopped her.

"But surely you want to see those two again, right? Yuri and Homura – or perhaps you really _have_ forgotten about all of that?"

"Hey, the fuck did I tell you about sucker-punches like that? I'll fuckin' cut you if you say some stupid shit like that again, _Majima-san."_

Before too long both of them had left the cellar. And he was left there in the darkness.

"What the fuck...?"

* * *

The interior of the main building was relatively barren. He was able to move about merely through checking his corners and moving as quietly as he could.

Mion's room was in the opposite direction of where he was headed, but that was no longer his destination. He knew of the mat the red haired girl had mentioned before – it was an exercise room that Mion used to use every morning until she gave up on athletics. As such, the room had been abandoned and most of the training equipment removed. As long as he could make it to that room without being seen he would be able to complete his task – presumably.

Sure enough, there was someone inside the room, stretched out on the mat. He hadn't gotten a good look at them, but could tell that they weren't asleep. The only way he was going to make it any further was to neutralize them from the doorway.

He had no time to prepare himself mentally – the more time he wasted the more chances he had to be discovered. He readied his pistol, turned and shot – the dart made contact with the man's forehead, putting him out the moment his eyes shifted in his direction. It was a stupidly lucky shot.

He proceeded into the room and after sliding the door behind him shut he started to roll up the mat, discovering the hidden trapdoor quickly. On the other side was yet another ladder, but down below there was a dimly lit hallway – the Sonozaki Catacombs were just beneath here, likely directly above the small tunnel he had been in before.

The moment he made it down the ladder he turned – and right in front of his face was none other than

Sekiguchi, lounging around on a strangely out of place couch that was squished between the walls in the middle of the hallway. The moment he saw him he nearly jumped, but all Sekiguchi did was put a finger to his lips and smile. However, there was something notably different about his eyes – they were sharp and dangerous, much like a killer's, and virtually nothing like the gentle eyes he'd shown them thus far. He pointed at the door way just behind him. Very carefully, Keiichi stepped over the couch, his eyes never leaving Sekiguchi for a moment.

"Hey, watch the legs." Sekiguchi hissed, when he stumbled trying to surmount the couch. "They aren't what they used to be."

He made it over and stared down Sekiguchi for a few more moments before proceeding towards the door. There was a lonely light hanging just above, revealing the bloodstained knob on the door.

On the other side the walls were slathered in blood in such a way that at first it seemed like poorly applied paint. There were bits and pieces of bone sticking out of the wooden steps, and what appeared to be a chamber pot overturned at the base of the stairs.

Sitting there in the darkness was a girl with green hair, chained to the ceiling by her wrists, wearing a kimono that was similarly covered in blood. Her eyes were wide open, and she was staring into space, unaware of anything around her. Her lips were stained with black and red, and her feet were surrounded by pools of urine and thin human feces.

He reached out and touched her, and in that moment she cried out, as loudly as possible.

"H-Hey, Mion, it's me, come on let's not do this right now okay?"

But she only continued to scream. He cupped her face in his hands and tried to get her to look at him – but all she did was stare straight through him. "Mion, listen to me – you're alright now. Whatever the fuck happened here, it's over. We're getting out of here."

He tried to undo her shackles, though not to much avail. He then looked up at the ceiling – he might not have been able to free her hands from the bindings, but he could manage removing the chain from the harness above.

In all of a moment her screaming stopped. Her arms dropped and she hung her head, as though she were a puppet with her strings cut.

"Come on, it's time to get a grip. You've got a hard-ass club to run. You don't have time to fuck around down here."

"...Kei...Kei-chan?" She tried to reach out with her hands – she managed to find his face and ran her hands all over him. Her head shot back up. "Kei-chan... Kei-chan!" her eyes were still entirely unfocused but she was finally speaking in words again. Just how long had she been down there, hanging from the cieling?

"That's right, I'm here, you're alright. It's gonna be fine." He firmly grabbed her wrists.

"I'm..."

"You're Mion. Whatever else you thought you were, that was all a lie."

"I'm... No, that's not right -"

"You're Mion Sonozaki. Anyone that tells you otherwise is full of shit, you understand?"

"I'm... I'm here." Her voice was slowly returning. "That's right I..." Her eyes suddenly widened ever further. "Kei-chan, I – I've done something horrible. I – he made me -"

"It's alright, dammit – whatever it is, you don't have to think about it anymore. But we can't stay here."

"Why are... why are you here?"

"I'm here to kidnap you."

"Okay... Take me far away from here. Please..."

"Don't have to tell me twice." He managed to pull her to her feet and with a bit of struggling at the stairs the two made it out of that cramped space. The couch and Sekiguchi were both gone, and miraculously enough Keiichi's radio suddenly started working again.

"Is anyone there? I found her. I think."

" _What happened?!"_ Natsumi nearly shouted.

"The radio was dead for awhile. There's a lot of shit I have to explain but right now I've got Mion and need a way out of here."

" _A-Alright, but where are you right now?"_

"I'm in some part of the catacombs right under the main building."

" _She wasn't in her room?"  
_

"No, she's... Well, she's been trapped underground. Probably for days."

" _Days? But that's not possible -"_

"Let's not dwell on that aspect for right now, okay? Just tell me where the fuck I'm taking her."

" _Can you get back into the main building?_

"Yeah, I'm just underneath the exercise room. This was under there the entire time, apparently."

" _But that's impossible, there weren't... Just stay where you are, there's an unusually high number of men outside the main building. We're going to clear a path."_

"Shit, that's probably my fault. Alright, I'm going to at least make it above ground -"

" _That's a horrible idea. If Mii-chan's been immobile for days she won't be able to go anywhere until she gets her bearings."_

Almost as though on cue, Mion slumped against him, unable to hold herself up any longer. "Alright, understood, we'll sit tight."

"That was Natsumi, right?"

"Yeah, our original plan was to abduct you as a response to a missing child being traced to the guys in suits."

"Hana... That's..." She started shaking.

"Hey, if you don't want to talk about this, then it's fine. I can tell some pretty fucked up shit happened down there, let's focus on the present for now, alright?"

"Please, Kei-chan... Don't let them take me. Take me anywhere else, but there. They'll kill me – they'll kill me if they see... If they..."

Only a few moments later, fortunately enough before he had to give her an answer, Keiichi's radio suddenly came alive. _"We're ready on our end. Just go straight out the front door."_

"That fast, huh? Alright, we'll be there shortly... Come on. Just stick with me – we'll figure everything else along the way." Keiichi grabbed Mion by the forearm and started to pull her along. "I won't let them hurt you. I promise." He said, parroting Natsumi from earlier. But that was enough. She nodded her head and focused her eyes as best as possible and followed him by the hand.

"Alright, so how are we gonna do this?" He sighed, looking up the ladder.

Mion wordlessly wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Ah, that's a good idea. Let's hope you've been cutting back on the midnight snacks." Much to his delight, she kicked him sharply in his side – she was coming back, bit by bit.

She was incredibly light, so the climb was short and easy. There was no one left in the room, and there weren't any men out in the halls either.

The two made their way towards the entrance. Mion's legs were able to carry her somewhat more substantially now, and so their pace quickened. Soon they could hear shouting coming from outside – something was certainly happening, for better or for worse.

The courtyard outside turned out to have become a small battlefield – the yakuza were in an all out brawl with the monks of the Furude family, of all people, with Natsumi sitting atop the wall far in the distance, her siderite cleaver shimmering in the moonlight. There were two men trying to climb on top of Kijima, who had seemingly made a hole in a section of the wall, but he shrugged them off as though they were children.

Proceeding straight ahead wouldn't be possible, but as he tried to turn he felt a tug from Mion – which turned out to be Noro, who had suddenly appeared out of the darkness and tried to grab her.

"Give her here. There's no time."

"Kei-chan, I won't -" But before she could even finish her sentence Noro pulled on her again, tearing her from his grasp. Hoisting her over his shoulder Noro proceeded off while Mion cried his name over and over.

For a moment she was in arm's reach – but his eyes were glued to Noro's mask. He knew that 'look' of his, probably better than anyone else. And so he froze in place, Mion's pleading eyes widening as her violent thrashing only grew stronger. Before too long she disappeared in the crowd that had suddenly taken shape.

He was mortified – he'd failed to save his friend. And, ultimately, it was all because he simply refused to reach out to her.

As he was standing there, unaware of anything else going on around him, someone grabbed hold of him. He immediately struggled to break free but -

"Enough. Interfere any more and you'll get yourself killed." It was Sekiguchi, who had a hold on him around his chest and latched onto his outstretching arm.

He pulled him away from there, despite his loud cuss-filled protests.

"But I promised her I'd...!"

"Often times we break our promises. If you're ever going to become a man you'll have to learn to deal with that."

"That's a load of shit!"

"Quiet, now. We're getting you out of here."

He had no other choice – led along by the arm by Sekiguchi he fled the estate through the back to avoid the chaos that ensued. The entire situation had exploded so quickly – but he was being allowed to escape. To skirt responsibility, while Mion was dragged away into the darkness once more.

They came to a stop somewhere further down the road, the estate visible fairly far in the distance. The tension that had built up inside of him that night all finally released and he simply dropped, sitting on the ground with his legs crossed.

"You've got some serious explaining to do." He said, in between deep breaths.

"Like I said, this is all out of my hands. I probably don't know much more than you do."

"How is that possible?!"

"I'm just a hired nose, here to sniff out people that end up too deep in this business. As it turns out I'm fairly good at my job. I can assure you that Mion is in much better hands now than she was in that cellar."

"Is that why you let me pass? Because you wanted her out of there? Why not just do it yourself?"

"I wanted _you_ to get her out of there, Keiichi. Like I've been saying, my hands are tied.

"I couldn't... I tried to reach out to her, but -"

"But you hesitated."

"I... yeah, that's exactly what I fucking did. I'm -"

"Listen – you're not going to be of any use to anyone if you keep making excuses. Even if those excuses are self-damning. Everything is about to change, and all at once – all the tension reached its peak a long time ago and now everything's going to explode."

It made sense – the lie put forth by the Majima family was about to be exposed, and with it one of the three pillars of Hinamizawa would collapse. Kimiyoshi would set loose the dogs of war, Furude would attempt and ultimately fail to sweep everything under the rug – the outbursts would only get worse, and with violence back in the thick of things, the dissenters would be stronger than ever.

"No matter what happens, never lose your way. People are _extraordinarily_ fragile creatures. Going forward your resolve, your capacity for fear, the integrity of the bubble your live in - every part of you is going to be challenged. But you have to keep on fighting – even at the point where most men will buckle and give in you have to keep pushing, do you understand?"

"What makes you think I can do something like that?"

"Of all the people in this village I know you most certainly can. But the first step down that road is accepting who you really are – taking your weaknesses in stride and using them against those that would have you destroyed. Find something to believe in and fight for it – just don't expect honor or pride or even friendship to be worth fighting for. Even if all you have to fight for is yourself, you either fight or you die."

"I don't think I -"

"You _must._ I'm going to be screwed if you don't either, you understand? _"_

"You…? What? How does that make any sense?"

"This wasn't how I wanted this shit to go, but we're out of time and options – I need you to help me, Keiichi. I need you to help me destroy my family."

"What…?"

"There's no point in telling you anything more. Not until you're ready. I'll come find you when the time is right – until then, decide what you're going to do. If you're going to fight, or if you're going to let them kill you."

Keiichi couldn't quite understand his words then. But there was no doubt that they held quite the weight to them. All he knew for sure was that tonight marked a turning point – what came next wasn't something he was going to be able to face alone.

Sekiguchi's words stayed in his mind. He had to find something to cling to. Something that was truer than the life he was leading. But his options were slim.

* * *

 _The Sixth Night_

The firehouse was empty when he arrived that night, with most of the lights left off and the garage out back locked up for the night. He fully expected Noro or Kijima to pop out of the darkness and wrench his head off his shoulders right then and there, with no warning or fanfare – and the mere thought made him grip the axe tightly. Upon further exploration, he found light, breaking in through the cracks of the break room door. Opening the door he found Natsumi happily humming away while tending to a boiling tea pot on the stove.

"There you are, Keiichi-kun." She spoke happily, not even turning to look at him.

"It's all dark in the hallway. You forgot to turn the lights on."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't need them so I didn't think about it."

"...So what's going on tonight?"

"Kijima-kun is taking the night off and no one knows where Kasai-san is so it's just going to be the two of us." Then she turned to face him, and with one look at the red stain splashed across her face he had all the incentive he needed to bolt from the room. "Would you like some tea?" She asked with a sweet smile. "I've gotten a lot better since last time."

"Sure thing." He replied, amazed at how his voice didn't hitch even slightly. "What happened to your face?"

"I went to see Mion-chan today."

"...Oh, is that all?"

She frowned, sensing the sarcasm in his voice. "It's okay. She's still in one piece, the blood isn't hers." She then walked over to him with a cup of tea in hand. "You should put that down," she pouted, running her free hand along his arm to his hand holding the axe. "I know what happened yesterday isn't settling well with you, so we're going to take things slow today, okay?"

Fearing for the moment the sweet, yet somewhat longing look in her eyes would turn cold and deadly, he did as told and left the axe by the door. She sat him down on the couch by the TV before plopping herself down right next to him. Sure enough she leaned in about as close as she could as she contently sipped away at her tea cup.

"So where are we going tonight?" he asked, unable to speak to her completely casually under the circumstances.

"There's a family on the east side that was distributing wine to children. It'll be enough for just the two of us." She nuzzled in further. "But let's not talk about that right now, okay? We've got plenty of time, and they're not going anywhere."

The magic she was working on him was taking effect alarmingly quickly. The scent of her hair and the warmth of her body as she continued to sink deeper and deeper into him was starting to drive him crazy – he couldn't tell the difference between the 'good Natsumi' and the 'bad Natsumi' any longer.

"Geez, Keiichi-kun... You're so stiff. Maybe the suit is too heavy for you...?"

"No, that's not the issue. I'm fine, really."

"You're sweating. And I didn't even put the heat on before." She placed her hand to his forehead. "You're nervous. Is something wrong?"

 _Of course_ there was something wrong – but he was outright afraid of finding out what she'd do if he told her.

Finishing her tea, she set the cup on the floor before kicking off her shoes and pulling down her socks with her toes. She then stretched out like a cat, resting her head on Keiichi's lap, immobilizing him from the waist down. He was fortunate that his uniform was thick around the area – she was wearing little more than a sundress and she'd given him too suggestive a view of her cleavage.

"Say, Keiichi-kun, don't you think it's about time?"

"About time for what?"

"Time for you to finally let me in?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Admit it already. You think I'm going to hurt you."

"Why? Is it because of what I do to other people?"

"But I would _never_ hurt you. Unlike all those terrible people you're _loyal_ , Keiichi-kun. You won't betray me. I _know_ you won't betray me.

"You sound so sure."

"It's because no matter what happens, no matter what you see or do, you spend every day with me. You answer every call, and not because you're afraid. I've shown you almost every part of me, but you keep on coming back. Because you understand – whenever you swing that axe I _know_ you understand why it's okay. Why it's okay to hurt people sometimes."

"I don't -"

"It feels good, right? Powerless people like you and me, breaking down someone's front door – lashing out with reckless abandon, finding the strength to strike back at the people that abuse their freedom when they don't even deserve it. That's why you're here after all –"

"What happened back then – I won't. I can't use that as an excuse for anything. Not ever."

"But it's _okay_ , Keiichi-kun. Violence isn't a curse or a sin – it's a gift that you do so much _good_ with. You don't have to be afraid of how good it feels. It's not an easy thing to embrace. We both came from good families with wonderful parents, and this isn't something they would've taught us. But I can make it easier for you."

"How?"

"Cling to _me,_ instead of those concerns."

"W-Wait, stop, I -"

"You don't have to worry about anything – you're crying out for me, Keiich-kun. Just look." Before he knew it she'd clawed her way through his pants, setting him free. Without warning she stroked his length, first gently but then at a faster pace. Her bony yet rough hands brought him to a climax with ease.

"See, that felt good, right? Now... I'm going to show you the rest of me, okay?"

She pulled away at her clothing, revealing the hard and smooth body underneath. She was ever so slightly toned, in much better shape than most other girls her age. The years of fighting the discord in Hinamizawa had made their marks on her body – but there were no cuts or bruises, only traces of her ever growing strength.

It was too late to back out – whatever her whims were, he had to accept them all. Whether or not it was what he really wanted didn't matter.

* * *

When his senses finally returned he found himself staring up at the ceiling, with very little recollection of what was going on, with the scent of his own seed very apparently in the air. He'd long since been stripped of all his clothing, though in all likelihood he'd removed it all himself. All he knew for sure was that Natsumi's tight, flawless figure continued to ride his length vigorously while she called out his name in ecstasy over and over, with no end to her intense wave of violent pleasure in sight.

And no matter how many times he emptied himself unimpeded into her he was back at full mast before he knew it. She was a superb lover, able to milk every drop of out of him that she could. _But she wasn't his lover._ He'd long since surrendered himself to the pleasure and stopped considering the consequences not long after that. _But she would doubtlessly be pregnant after this._ In such a small amount of time, Natsumi had drawn him in and cut him off from the rest of the world with no intention of ever letting him go. _But it wouldn't last forever._

That's right – there was a girl with a place in his heart, a girl who tried her hardest to please him like this and despite her personality was very insecure about her ability to love him the way he wanted. But it wasn't this girl, who could bring him to climax over and over again with just the sound of her voice. She was tighter, stronger, rougher, and was more than willing to do all the work herself. Sex with Natsumi was heavenly, compared to what he had going on with _that other girl_.

He'd long since burned away the stamina needed to do anything other than maintain an erection, but before that he'd taken her every which way, front and back, and much to his enlightenment sideways as well. And when she took him in was as though she wasn't human anymore – it was as though the pain she was feeling meant nothing, and all that mattered was how strong a climax she could bring him to. But whenever she was close she would dig into him with her whole body – she had even drawn blood from him with her teeth more than once, but all it did was bring him to the edge faster.

And here, at what would perhaps be the end of it, as her pacing had finally dropped in intensity, he concluded that there was something very, very wrong with him. He'd abandoned the personality he'd tried to build up until that moment and unearthed something he couldn't quite understand. He was frustrated. He was trying as hard as he could to start over, trying as hard as he could to be the average person he wanted everyone to see him as. He wanted to be a person that the world could accept without hurting anyone needlessly.

But he could never pull it off – it was just impossible. There were two sides to him that both demanded satisfaction – the side that wanted to hurt other people, and the side that wanted other people to hurt him in return. And the only person that could satisfy both sides was this girl, who had once again erupted on top of him with a lovely cry. He enjoyed violently pounding into this girl that would do nothing but beg for more, and he would wear her bite marks as reassurance that what he was doing was okay.

That was who he was. His hesitation to reach out to Mion, his lack of objections now – it was all connected, and as Sekiguchi said, it was all a part of him.

He was really just an awful person. But right now, he felt good. He felt like what he was doing was okay. As long as he had someone to tell him that what he was doing was okay, he could keep doing it. Over and over, without so much as a single regret.

"You're crying." she eventually broke the silence of their final climax with a husky voice.

"It's nothing."

She leaned in and kissed him, hungrily pushing his lips apart, before breaking it off moments before he was about to reciprocate. Her lips trailing along the side of his face, she reached his left earlobe and gently bit it.

And then she spoke those words. "There's nothing to be afraid of. You're my best friend. I won't let anyone take you away from me."

"Mion's supposed to be your best friend."

"I love Mii-chan too, but she doesn't understand. She doesn't know what it's like to hurt someone, the way you and I hurt other people. She doesn't see the difference between love and being in love with someone. You're the only one I can talk to about anything – do anything I want with, because you understand, even if you're not honest with yourself about it. Anything I need to do – I needed you tonight, and even after you knew what I wanted you didn't turn me away. And I'd do the same thing for you."

"...Anything?"

"Anything."

"Then tell me about 'Reina'."

Her smile faded away for a moment and her eyes darkened. Were he not drunk with lust at the moment he may have been afraid of those eyes – but at that moment, even if only because of the simple fact that they'd made love together, he trusted her not to. His trust was rewarded - she buried her head in his chest, breathed heavily for a few moments, and then spoke what he could only assume was the truth.

"Reina was a cute girl that everyone in the village loved. As a devout follower of Oyashiro-sama, she was innocent and kind, and she always knew when someone was in pain, and she always knew what to say to make them feel better. She could even make friends with the beggars, and she would always defend their children when they broke the law to play with her. Her parents were very strict, but good people who taught her about all the values she held precious to her."

"And where did she go?"

"Soon enough, as all children's dreams eventually do, the happy world she knew started falling apart. Her parents split up, her friends began to fight each other – and she thought it was all her fault. She didn't understand things like hate, or want, or frustration – all she knew in her little world was love and the absence of it. And Reina realized, after it was all over, that she didn't love anyone back. Because she always knew what to say, she always knew what was _wrong_. She could always see the bad in other people. And she wondered – was it really okay to tell people only what they wanted to hear? Did everyone really deserve to be happy? What about her? Why wasn't she allowed to be happy? Was it her fault? Or was it someone else's?

"One way or another she was taken away from that village where everyone loved her, and thrown into a world where no one ever would. Forced to live with her mother, against her will, she saw the rest of the world for what it was – lawless, void of compassion, where people eat away at each other without a second thought. She longed for her home, her _real_ home, and that longing ate away at her, bit by bit - until there was no Reina left."

"Did she ever come back?"

"That was a long time ago," She sighed. "I doubt there's anyone left who knows what happened to her." That, he was sure, was the only lie.

"I didn't love Reina. I didn't love her one bit. I won't make the same mistakes she did. There are people in the world that stay true and deserve all the happiness in the world. But there are twice as many that will ensure they won't ever have any of it. Before I die, I want to hurt as many of those people as possible."

"But you don't think you're strong enough to do that all on your own. That's what you were talking about the other night."

"You see? I always knew you understood. That's why I'm glad you're with me."

He was bereft of objections and was unwilling to push her away as she sank even further into his skin, resting her body on top of his. They were still joined at the waist, and even that he was not willing to rectify. He no longer had the power to resist her. He had no reason to, either.

How could he reject her after this? How could he willingly sever himself from someone that trusted him so completely? To ruin her would be very easy, especially after tonight. If there was anyone that could get through to her, it was him.

But doing so would undoubtedly destroy her. It was clear to him now – she had long since reached her limit, where the lies she'd been telling herself for so long were falling apart as she became older. Had he not entered her life when he did, she may have lashed out and done something terrible long ago. She was drawn to him because she knew he'd done something horrible to someone else, yet managed to present himself to the world as a normal person.

She wasn't blackmailing him the day she revealed that she knew about his past. She wasn't trying to strong-arm him into joining the fire department – she wanted him to join because she wasn't sure of herself anymore. Because if he didn't, the world she knew would inevitably end.

But her burden was something far different from his. She had lives on her hands. She couldn't wash that away with anything. But as long as he stayed with her, she could put off that revelation for as long as possible. She needed him to reassure her. To tell her that everything she was doing was alright. It was no different from what Natsumi was doing for him now.

She'd only managed to convey it through sex, but he'd understood it anyway - it's all phony. The logic, the 'true' meanings of her fury – all of it was just superfluous. Words that had been put into her mouth by someone else. Someone else's agenda, someone else's reason for living. But she needed those words, because Reina had died, and the world she knew was a lie. Because the truth was too painful, she needed an even bigger lie to replace the old one. It may have been different when she was younger. But by now, all she wanted was to hurt other people for her own sake, and have someone close by that would love her anyway.

"No, I won't leave you." He spoke, barely above a whisper.

"You promise?" She asked, having seemingly understood his words completely.

"I..."

"You're worried about Satoko, right?"

He had no substantial reaction. He wasn't surprised in the slightest that she knew, yet seduced him into cheating on the poor girl anyway.

"It's okay. You didn't betray anyone. We're not like that – we're not lovers. I don't want us to be like that, not ever."

He felt a wave of relief wash over him, but he couldn't quite understand. "Then what is this? What are we supposed to be?"

"It's like I said. You're my best friend, now and forever." She leaned in, presumably to kiss him again, but instead she whispered to him once more. "It doesn't even matter. You chose me tonight, and you'll choose me again. Even after I make you take responsibility."

"Responsi -"

Suddenly there was a yanking on his arm. He looked up – and those two lunatics were standing there, Noro with surgeon gloves on his hands and Kijima with Natsumi's cleaver and his fingers squirming around the extension groove.

"What the _fuck is_ \- " Noro silenced him with a punch to the face.

"You of all people should know what the punishment for degeneracy is, Keiichi-kun." Natsumi said, her expression unchanging, as she once again mounted his length which seemed to be acting with a will of its own. "But since you're one of us, you won't have to suffer as much."

"Hey, hey, get the fuck off of -" Noro punched him again, this time hard enough to daze him momentarily.

Kijima slowly brought the cleaver to Keiichi's left ring finger while Noro held his arm in place despite the shaking. Keiichi tried all he could to get away, but it was impossible, with Natsumi on top of him and Noro's grip all he could do was squirm.

"It's okay Keiichi-kun, just look at me. I'm gonna make you feel really good so it won't hurt so much, okay?"

"No, fuck this, this is insane -"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Noro groaned, moments before dislocating his arm, eliciting another painful cry. "See, now if you just held still and didn't bounce around like a fucking toddler you'd still have a good arm. Brought that one on yourself, kid."

The closer the cleaver came to Keiichi's finger the more distressed his panicking became and, proportionally, the harder Natsumi rode him, her eyes glued to the shining blade.

"It's almost over, baby." Natsumi moaned through her vicious thrashing. "Almost there, just look at me, you'll be okay -"

The blade swung out, claiming the entirety of his pinkie finger and the upper half of the ring finger, scraping off some skin from his middle finger as well. He screamed as blood spurted everywhere, but that was only the beginning. For good measure Kijima then took the rest of the ring finger, at which point Natsumi reached her peak.

Moments after she did, Keiichi did as well, the initial burst of pain having past him and Noro already working on stopping the bleeding.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" Natsumi giggled. "It's like I said – cling to me. Forget all the pain, forget all the anxiety. Pour everything you have into me, and I won't part with a single drop. That's what best friends are for."


	6. Xmpghafxs

_Chapter 6: Xmpghafxs_

 _The First Day_

The Kimiyoshi family is a rather timeless establishment, one that is known for its brute force and tendency to do whatever it deems necessary to get a job done. In truth, such an establishment would never have been able to maintain itself for as long as it has on those two qualities alone – after all, such brutality is fit for a training barracks, but not for leadership of any other sort.

In Hinamizawa, it is necessary to control the people without tearing them down. For if someone becomes something less than human, they forget how to be afraid. It was a basic principle that Kiichiro Kimiyoshi, the head of the Kimiyoshi family and Natsumi's father – though not quite by direct relation – was well aware of.

Kiichiro Kimiyoshi was an old man, nearly falling apart at the ripe age of sixty-eight. Despite that his eyes were as sharp as those of a far younger man, and he was able to hold a conversation with someone while intensely eyeing someone else across the room. He was remarkably disrespectful but a gifted speaker. In reality he was a bit of an outsider, born in a branch of the family and cousin to the head of the family at that time. However, since then, the family had a falling from grace, with most of its members either imprisoned or disowned from the family in the aftermath of the so called Dam War in 1977, Kiichiro survived his way to being the most suitable choice, with Natsumi, his dead brother's daughter, being his heir.

As such, no one had the capacity or the status in the village to call him out on any of the glaring contradictions in his conduct that he never bothered to hide – not even the heads of the other houses, knowing how much of a loose cannon the man was when it came to turning his only daughter and her band of misfits loose on anyone that so much as looked at him the wrong way.

It was his way – to abuse the law the way the fire department did. To take advantage of those that defy the order as much as possible – there were none in the village that had the ability to question this way, and as long as the Powers That Be refused to intervene there would be no other way for as long as he lived.

And, by extension, as long as she lived, as well. There was no part of her that wished to go against her father's wishes.

̴̧̛̭̲̠͚̽̏̿̉̌͠A̷̡͖̬̞͖̹̺͈̝̻͊́͐̉̒͞͝͝t̹̦͋̉̌̄͘͜ l̮̘̤̰̹̻͖̲̣̀͌͛͆̒̌̃͜ę̵̮̰͎͇͕̞͉͕̘̍̎̓̔̿̉̈͛̅͞ą̷̘̯̤̓̓̓̉̋̏͆̇̋͟͠s̳͖̺̼̞͑̒̈͆́ͅt̢̼̟͕̠͉̰͔͌͊̍͋̾̿͘͞͡,̷͉͓͇̫̳̞̉̇͋̿̈́̾̂ n̶̲̭̫̳̳͍̖̖̓̊̋́̐́͆̕͟o̶̭̖̤͇̝̻͕̫͗̄͋̽͐͟t̢̳͔̘̀͑̍͑̓ͅ a̴̢̨͈͓̙̗̜̅̎͌̔̂̊͢͡ņ͚̬̤̞͈̻͛̒̆̒̿̃͢y̴̨̛͖͕̝̽̓͗̔̿͑̋̃͜͡m̵̤̘̪̱̘͉͊͐̔̊͌͢ǫ̷̛͈̩̖̣̝̼̥̹̃̅͂́͋͜͡͡͡r̷̢̜̞͎̣̰̭͋͆̂̑̕e̡̝͔̬͖̗̰̺̦̒̍͐̎̀̀͗̚.̶̙̮͔͓́̓̿̃͗͊̅͋ͅ

For many years she had been searching – searching for the root of the chaos in Hinamizawa, entirely on his orders. But until now, no matter whose house she torched, no matter who she beat into submission, there was no traces of the source of Hinamizawa's Christianity – the so called pontiff of Hinamizawa's Christian sect, the Onigiri, named after a perceived similarity between a papal hat and the food.

It was an easy thing to do – to sway the masses, in such a village where instead of pure order, chaos was dealt with by smothering it with a greater chaos. The faiths of Hinamizawa and Christianity are monotheistic, and the basis of Oyashiro-sama is simple enough for overlap to occur with ease. Bringing the people something simple, something welcoming, something _understanding_ – something they can understand without scrapping and rebuilding themselves from their core – that is the key to seizing control of the village, and this Pontiff both understood that simple truth and possessed the means to realize their whims with it.

Alcohol, drugs, secret bunkers, secluded meeting grounds, even the hidden pathways under the wall that the Sonozaki family knew nothing of – one individual had power over all of them, and very steadily they were conquering the village one house at a time.

She knew more than any other – the conflagrations grew exponentially, threatening to eclipse the majority of the village. She would resort to violence, but her greatest fear is that violence simply wouldn't be enough. She could only pray that when the time came, she could kill if it was necessary.

Of course it was not as though she was completely foreign to the concept. But in her mind, the sort of murder she was used to was anything but.

It was high noon, and the children scampered about the schoolyard without much of a care in the world for anything. It wasn't their place to fear the looming shadow of the Powers That Be or the fire department or the Furude family or the certain reality of their family running out of money or anything of the sort – they simply laughed and played, and today was no different.

And that was their role in this society – to laugh and play, to make mistakes, to be inconsiderate. The job of the children was to remind the rest of the village of what a world free of worries is like, so that in the inevitable moment when it is stripped away from them that memory becomes a little less precious.

The children though accident prone understood the rules of their world on some level. Don't bully anyone from an important family. Don't go anywhere near the wall. And, with the greatest of precedence, don't talk to anyone that comes from the other side. That way when the time came for them to leave their little world, the transition wouldn't destroy them.

On this particular day that last tenant was put to the test. As incidents like these often did, it happened very suddenly and without much

Though seemingly greatly occupied the moment before with their game of Old Maid, she drifted away from her circle of friends the moment she realized what had happened, as though in a trance. The laughter and carelessness suddenly faded away. The children were silent and terrified, even more so when she appeared and approached the wayward child that had appeared in the yard much like a ghost.

It was a little girl, perhaps half Rika and Satoko's age, dressed very poorly and dirtied beyond reproach. The fear was apparent on her features, but she didn't miss it – the sense of longing in her eyes, begging to be a part of that world without worries.

She looked down at her, emotionlessly. In the first few moments she ruminated on the little creature before her – _has she been raped yet? Does she have any parents? Does she believe in 'god', or does she believe in Oyashiro-sama?_

T̲̬̺̞̥̗̄͌̓̊̃͜h̦̭̥̯͈̜́̎͗͛̚͘͢͜͡e̶͍͚̠͕͕̯͚͇̹̊̌͒̈́̔͌́ͅ f̷͕̭͈̙̩̖̱̼̫̅̎͊́̀͆͛͗̅į̴̨̧͉̠̞̺̲̊͋͆̄̆̀̊̊͘͡ŗ͇̙̦̯͕̪̙̋̆́̆͘ṣ̥̭͇̲̹͙̠̃͛́̌͘ͅt̨̟͖̻̘̐̾̓͊̈́̈͡ ţ̷̛͎͈̗͕̥͈̮̦̐̆̎͊̈͑ȋ̶̮͔̖͙̪̑̏̃̈̄m̨̼̲̹͙͇̫̊̒̆̌̕͡e̷̥͈̺͚̫͛̋̿̓̔͠͡ s̶̢͎͈̰̪͌̾̑̀̄͊͒͆͗͜͝ḩ̳̘̜̂̂̿͊̌̇̃̀̏͢ę̶͉̯͎̬͉̝̗̙͔͑̉̃͊̐̅͐̕͝͝ ç̷̱̯̘̭̦̜̠̼͒͂̊̈̂͐̓̃̄ŗ̡̝̙̥̫̪̂̉̾̈́͗͗͂̚͠i̡̛̹̥̭̫̬̼͓͙̰̒̑̅͑͋̈̀͞e̳̲̤̹͎̱͇̒̀̏̀̒̔̾͟͝͝d̷̢͍̟̘̜͇̬̤̝̐̆̅̄̅̉̀͌̾͘.̡̗̱̬̘̙̼̻̰̥̓̇͊̍͐̾̌̋̽͘

And then she smiled warmly at her.

"What's your name?" She asked sweetly.

"I-na-ri." The girl annunciated, as though she'd only recently learned how to move her mouth.

"Inari? Isn't that a boy's name?" The girl naturally has no reply. "So, Inari-chan. Where are you from?"

The child doesn't break eye contact with her for a moment and merely pointed – naturally, her finger was directed towards the wall.

"Wow, really? That's so cool!"

The child again has no means to process her niceties. It was only natural – she had no perception of positive reinforcement. All things considered the simple fact that she could understand her was a miracle in of itself. In fact, it was possible that the only reason she was here was to find other children, those that were like her.

"Where are your parents? Do they know that you're here?"

"Momma's sick." She said, though the words came out a tad garbled.

"Oh, that's horrible! Can you show me? Can you take me to where your momma is so I can help her?"

The small child led her away from the school yard and the other children obediently, without a moment of hesitation. Perhaps in her deformed mind anything that decided not to inflict pain upon her was trustworthy.

T̷̨̧̧͉̟͈̺̲̓̈͂̾́̔̆͐͟͞͡ḧ́̕e̺̥̞̜̾͂̔̂͊̑̿̔͡ͅ s̶̡̧͙̳̰̒̽͆̈̆͋͆ę͖̲̜͉̹͕̓̔̒̚͝c̴̢͓̦̘̬̹̰̤̠̒͂̉͌̆̇̔͗͘͜o̡̧̮͉̩͉̫̜̎̀͒̃͡n̢̬͖̹͉̭̝̙̟̅̍̊͐̿͟͞d̢͉̖̪̤͙͎̈̉̋̒͞ͅ ṱ̷̡̧̛̻͇͎̣̼͗͊̈́͐̇i̹̤̞̙͔͔͍͙̙͌̃̇̽́̿̍̚͞ͅm̶̨̜͎̻̼̘̲͙̫̟̃͊͑̾̾̀͊͌̚͞e̶̬͚̲̣͇̒̒̽́̊͋͊̈́̊̃ s̵̛̜̘̞̞̹͋̎̕̕͡ḩ̱͎͎̬̠͗̓̂̂͒̕͟͡ē̵̡̳̬̟̭̣͓̩̔̓̂̉͜͠͡ͅ c̵̟̪̥̪͑͑̋́̏̀̈̈́͢ŗ̶̠̤͉͎̣̮̲̞̌̍͑̅͆̕͢͝͠͡į̢̧͚̯̦̗́͊͊̀̒̐̇͋̕͝ȩ̱͎̟̩̺̫͓̱̌̔͋͐͒̓̒̇̍͢͡ḋ̷͎͍̲͉̭͓̹̰͒͗̄̊.̓̽̅̈́͡͡

The child's path went up right along the side of the wall, in a wooded section that was not often traveled – sure enough, at the very base of a very small section was an opening. A very small tunnel, large enough only to fit very small individuals. The only conclusion possible was that it had been dug by hand – how such a thing had been made so close to the school building was a mystery for the moment, but more importantly there was the fact that this child had made the trip underneath in the first place, and its implications.

The child began pushing some of the wet dirt around the entrance out of the way knowingly as though she'd done it a thousand times before. She likely dug part of the gap herself.

"Did you come here by yourself?" She asked, hoping to get as much information out of the girl as possible.

She nodded. "Everyone else is too scared." Her words came out a tad more focused.

"So why _did_ you come here, then?"

She didn't reply with much. "Momma said there were other kids." So her initial hypothesis was right after all – so that meant whoever was behind this digging knew quite a bit about what was on the other side.

Mere moments later Noro was leaning against the wall just to the right of her.

"It seems as though we need more competent sentries out on the perimeter." He remarked.

"I can't blame anyone for not finding this. Did you see anyone else around?"

"No, it seems as though this girl was the only one that came through. They likely don't know that she's over here."

"This is too big for … Say, Inari-chan?" She called out to the girl. "Did you make this tunnel all by yourself?"

The girl simply shook her head.

"Did your momma help? Is that why she's sick?"

Then she followed with a nod.

"I see…"

"This is your call. Do we bring in the other families on this?"

"Neither. There's no way they just happened to dig a hole like this by pure chance. Someone on this side of the wall helped them plot it. No one can know; not on either side. Watch this opening day and night."

"Understood. Though that still leaves this one here."

"Hey, Inari-chan? Can you come here for a minute?"

The child trotted over, again with virtually no resistance.

"Hm…" Natsumi scrubbed away at the dirt on her cheeks. "There we go! Remember, no matter what you're doing, girls always have to look their best, alright?"

The child nodded, her cheeks brightening up slightly.

Natsumi smiled at her warmly again, patting down the girl's damp hair and wiping away the smeared dirt at the corners of her mouth.

B̫͉̩͉̝̣̗̫̏̏͑̈́̽́ỳ̷̧͕͚̬̦͔̫̣̓́̕͢͞ ţ̵͎͎͖͉̼͋̋̎͘̕h̴̢͕̼̯͙̺͔͓͛͌͗̏͑̐͊̒͢͡ȩ̛͎̘̽̑͐̌̎͟ͅͅ t̷̡͔̖͕͎̔͗̾̏͛̉̎̐̊̚h̡͉̲̦͕̤̼̺̰̃̃̐͂̈̑̾͠i̛̟͉̭͉̖͖͈̍̉͋̀̃̓͟͡͞r̴̛̪͓̲̳̙̍̋̉͆͒̆̚͝d͑͛̋̂,̯̖̲͔͉̤̮̯͂̇̔̎̆̆̔̏͜͜ s̈̉̂̏̅̀͘h̛̥̭̻͖̠͖̓̌̀̆̊̇͡e̻̫̩͎̬͒̿̽͗̈̎̽ ẘ̶̡̛̜̝͍̬̖͕̞͆̒͗̓̅͟a̧̟̖̜̱͗̃̈́͋̕ş̲͑̏̀̀̆͂̅͡ t̢̗͎̲̞̳̻̠̳͂̑̎̎̈́̒̀̎̀̊ĥ̵̢̫̤̜͎̥͈͚̣̋̏̔̂̄̕ͅẽ̶̢̛̟̠̞̳̹̉̓́͛̿̀̚͜ o͔̲̬̩͇̹̬͇̘͐̑́̽͛̍̋͂n͚̗̱̤̽͗́̿͘͘͝ͅe͛͋͗̅̀ ȭ̧͍̫͓̠̩̠̳͗̿̄͒̑́̾͟ͅn̛̜̣̫̹͇͓̐̓͊̀́͌̃͋ ț̨̧̘̖͎̇͌͆̉͡͠òp͕͎͔͚̖̾́́̐͊͝.̛̤̭͍̰̖̘͓̥͍͋͌̽͘͝

With that she gripped the girl from the back of her head and the bottom of her chin and with a rather effortless motion snapped her neck. It was instant, and the pain was only brief.

It was a common thing – to end up putting down someone from the other side of the wall. But it wasn't murder – no, any part of those people that may have been human was stripped away long ago.

"If anyone else comes through, detain them. Kill anyone that can't speak Japanese."

"Yeah, yeah, I've got it." Noro said with a sigh. "The least you could've done was give me some warning first."

"What's the problem?"

"It's nothing worth complaining about."

That was the fifth time – the fifth time she took a life of a Mahamatsuri creature. They could talk like people and act like them, and to some extent become people, but in the end they could never truly be anything what they were. Monsters that know neither law nor order, with no regard for anyone's emotions but their own. Reavers, rapists, murderers – they and by extension the spawn that came from their innumerable sins had no place on the earth. Even those who had once been something more, once embraced by their darkness could never be anything else ever again.

That night she burned down another house – one that belonged to an old couple she spoke to on a daily basis. The act itself was easy. But she wasn't prepared to see that girl's face again.

 _Ryuugu Reina._

d̯͔͈̻̼̬̮̓͂̅̔́̏͐̕͢ͅo̵̧̲͍͙͒̈́̃̑̓͘͜͞͞ņ͙͙͔̅̀̈́͗͌̆̉̋̇̽ͅ'̨̛̜̟̜̬͓̺͑̽̏̾̓̅͂̾͢ţ̬̟̣̹̦͖̥͒̏̀͘̕ f̜̗̤̳̲̗̜͔͖͊̋́͛̄͌̕͜͝͠͡o̝͔͚͍͓̥͋͑̆̌̔̃̕͜͝r̼̮̼̦̹͙̉̋̑̓̈́͂̎͝g̶̨̡̳͎̰͖͖̲̃̋̀͊̆̄̊͢͞e̯̫̦͈̿̔̈́̃͟͡ͅt̴̡͕̼̠͇̼̟̜̠͎͑̃̽̔̽̚ m̷̛̜͈̮̘͍̗̬̐̌͊͒̋̎̇͜͟e̷̫̻̫̻͍̖̠̅̇̒̇̈́͊͟

So much as remembering her name was enough to sap the life from her body and destroy all motivation she had to do anything. She always walked home by herself – that night was no exception. Usually she would ruminate on the boxed lunches she'd be preparing the following morning, but on this night all she could think about was that girl.

Surely it must have been a punishment from Oyashiro-sama for killing that child, even though it was a mere animal, destined to die a painful death one day no matter what she allowed her to do. After all Oyashiro-sama is benevolent and forgiving. But she was not. She could never forgive, and would never forget.

That girl was no different. She was never a beggar or a thief, but when she'd died she was no longer human, either. Beyond the wall is nothing but pain and death. The only future the world has is on the inside. Oyashiro-sama is the only source of salvation on the planet. Outside the world is war-torn and defiled, corruption spreading to the far corners and taking many shapes and forms. Outside people have become so used to tasting that corruption that they can no longer tell it apart from anything else.

She can say these things to herself over and over, but in the end it didn't really matter what she thought about anything. All she had to do was go about her job the same way she always did. What she thought didn't matter.

Of course, the longer time went on, the harder it was to actively do her job. The villagers were turning on her at such a frequency it was a wonder there wasn't anarchy in the streets at that point. She knew what the source was, but she couldn't find it. She knew what to ask people, but no one ever gave her what she needed. And on and on it went, with little courtesy for her or anyone else. Before too long her father would become dissatisfied with her performance, and from there all that would be left for her would be little more than what the beggars have.

She sought refuge in her room, noting the sound coming from the radio set in the far corner. She changed out of her work clothes and sat herself down beside it, opening the nearby window and letting a gentle breeze move the air in her musty room.

The only thing she had to pull herself away from the rest of the world was this –

She could hear them from the bugs placed throughout his house – Keiichi and Satoko, and the embarrassment that was their idea of love-making. She'd known about this particular relationship for two weeks, and though pedophilia was punishable by death in certain cases she did not dare act out upon it.

To Natsumi Keiichi was something of an ideal. Someone who came from the outside, yet understood the world the way she did, even if he didn't want to accept it.

So she sat there on her bed listening to them, touching herself all the while. At this point her mind set itself free – she thought not about her father or her job or the people whose lives she'd ruined, but instead she lamented over how she was born a woman and quickly brought herself to a climax over the thought of what Keiichi's eventual punishment would be.

Being a man meant it was possible to take someone however and whichever way they wanted.

If she were a man, she would have imprisoned the two of them in some hidden place that no one would ever find and raped them. s̷̡̨̜̠̜̪̞̎̃͘̚͞h̴̢̡̯͚̻̦̤̆̎̐̒̔͐̕̚͠e̴̢̥͕͖͎͎̤̟̾̄̔͗̎̏̈ͅ k̹̼͚͉͖̩̘̦͆̈́̈́̐͑͘͝͠͠n͇̬̗̻̪͋̓͐̀͡o̵̮̩̜͙̙͔̻͐͛̿̑̌̂̏̃͡w̢̰̘̗͉̩͊̂̅̂̂͂͌̄͜͝͡ş̷̤̪͇̻͇͛̀̎̅̇̀́̄ͅ ẇ̢̜̟͕̠̦͓̻͐̃̅͂͊̉̕̚͜͡ẖ̢̛̙͖̩̖͑̿́̊̊̒a̶̠̤͉̲͂̍̃̈̀̃̕͘̚͟t̨̨̛̘̱̥̪̗͎͊̈́̽͢͟͡͞ ĩ̮̫̦̝̜̼̱̺͎̊̓͗͑̒̏͜͡͞ţ̻̺̬͈̳̮͔̈̄̀̽͂͘̚͜͜'̢͙̜̥̲̱̮̬͔̓̎͋̊̎̇̽̄ŝ̨̜̜̲͍̮͕̭͕͑͆͗͐͌̄͞͠ l̷̟̯͕̰̜̑̓̀̈͑͗͋͘͘͜͝ͅͅi̴͖̖̟͇͔͈͉̽͋̀̄́̅̂̿̈k̢͖̜͍̪̦̹̗̫̈́͗͛̉̐̿̉̔̏͜e͓̣̰̥͓͍̥͛̀̒̽̍͒̿͆͜͞

She would have treated them both passionately. She already longed for Keiichi, but as she'd learned Satoko's moans were more than enough for her on their own.

If she were a man, she would have sodomized Keiichi in front of his young lover over and over until her hips weakened. Then she would have moved to Satoko, unable to struggle, ordering her to move up and down on her erection again and again until it was certain that she was impregnated. Her only regret would be that she wasn't the one that had broken her hymen.

But perhaps there was still hope for that particular venture after all. It would've been a tad more difficult, but she could have fucked her all the same. Perhaps if she was lucky she could even find traces of Keiichi still on her.

She could only hear them, and so could only imagine what they were actually doing – how his hands drifted across her skin, where they drifted _towards. And then it occurred to her, his hands – she could take his hands._

But she couldn't. She couldn't hurt him that way – she couldn't hurt Keiichi in a way that would make him look at her with disgust. For her, there was nothing worse in the world, not even the scorn of her own father.

But here she could fantasize about it. She could indulge in those thoughts, for here the only thing that mattered was the simple fact that she wasn't Natsumi Kimiyoshi, who lived one way from birth and until death.

No words leave her mouth. No gasps, no grunts, no indication that she is in the room other than the creaking of her bed with each violent stirring of her insides.

The truth is hidden in that creaking, in that disconnection between the Natsumi that had to be, and the Natsumi that wanted to be.

... ... . / -.-. .- -. -. - - / ... .-. . .- -.- / .. –

-. - - / .- -. / ..- - - . .-. .- -. -.-. . / .- .. .-.. .-.. / .-. .- ... ... / ... . .-. / .-.. .. .-. ...

..-. - .-. / - ... - ... . / .-.. - ... - / -.-. .- -. / -. . ...- . .-. / .-. . - ..- .-. -.

.- - .-. -.. .-.. . ... ... .-.. -.- / ... ... . / -.-. .-. .. . ...

.. -. / .-. .-.. .- -.-. . / - ..-. / - ... . / ..-̴̲̜͙̝͉̩̀̽̓̎̓͟.̧̗̰͖̝̪͙̽̿̑̔͐̐͜͞͠-̵͉̹͉̮͕̠͇͔͌̄͆̔͛͂̈͠͡.̛̄͌̑̆͞ .̶̨̡̢̖̖̹̻͙̯̜̊́̀̉̂͂̊̍.̵͚͖͚͓͖̮̰͒̔́͊̎̒̊͜͞͡͠ -̭̺̣̘͖̉͆͆̅̍̏́̚̚.̭͚̜̟̻̏͒͒͊̔͂̈́͂͠͠-̵̨̞̠̯̹̯̣͚̰͑̏̃́́̊̒͌͜.͐̄̈́̕ .̖̺̣͉̯̒̃͌̏͟͞͡-̨̩̺͔̞̖̭̺́̌̌̍̚ -̴̧̝̺̗̺͙̤̉̄͗̊͛͊̂̉̈́͡.̴̨̨̼̗͖͓̲̙̏̓̌̓̀̚͜͞.̷̭͈̗͙͙̂̈̿͒́̓̀͢͡ .͐̋̍͛̄̂-͉̠̮͓̭̃̽̍́̿͛̐̕͢͟ .̵̡̙͎͎̣͔̜́̒͗̓͗͟.͖̠̘̘̳̖̎̎̍̃̄͒̄̌͜͠.̴̡̛͔͍̹̗̼̩̊́͆̽͊ ../ - ... .- - / -.-. .- -. / -.-. .-. -.- / -. - / - - .-. .

... .. .-.. . -. -.-. . / - ... . / ... .- .-. .-. - .- .. -. -. / -.-. .-. -.- / .- .. - ... / .- / -.-. .-. -.- / - ..-. / -.- - ..- .-. / - .- -.

* * *

 _The Fourth Day_

It was a good dream. A peaceful, tranquil dream, full of wishes and expectations.

He dreamed of a world where he would open his eyes and all his friends would be there, surrounding his bed, waiting anxiously for the moment he'd open his eyes. And that when he did so, they all would've been happy enough to reassure him that no matter what came next, they would be there for him. That even though his life was going to change so much, as long as they remained at his side he would find some way to pull through. Where when he woke, the path forward was clear and in front of him, and though steep as it may have been – where all was just as it had been for that boy once, long ago.

He dreamed not for riches, not even for the possessions that he had lost, but simply for a world where all of that was his. He dreamed for something pure, something that was not bought but earned. And so the dream ended, and revealed itself to be nothing more, for that world so earnestly wished for did not exist.

When he opened his eyes all that was there was the hospital room, and the same hysterical crying he'd heard when they'd last closed. The world around him was grey and lifeless. There was no one in it but his mother. Whether she refused to abandon him out of love or out of maternal necessity he could not say. But the more time went by the less he seemed to care.

In the hours that passed, two things were made apparent to him – one, that he was being retained at the Irie Clinic as he recovered from his injuries under direct supervision from Doctor Kyosuke himself while his grief stricken mother tended to him at every possible moment, and two, that there was something horribly, _horribly wrong with him._

He could feel them crawling up his legs, clutching him as though clinging for dear life. Arms, many, many arms, attempting to drag him off his bed, scratching away at him, shaking his body violently, more than enough for his oblivious mother to finally notice. For a moment he could hear a baby crying, and a young boy soothing it with a song from his younger years. His mother's lips would wordlessly flap as though to speak. The feeling of the soft mattress beneath him would give way to numbness, and all that would brush against his ears was little more than an eerie silence. There would be nothing but the hands, and before too long his mother would panic, flee the room, and return with Doctor Kyosuke in tow, accompanied by a syringe that would cause the so called delusions to subside in an instant.

Trauma from the fire, he was told over and over and over. That's all these episodes– all these eerie, unreal things – were nothing more than feverish delusions.

The only thing he really thought _was_ a feverish delusion was when she appeared, first poking her head into his room to see if he was there.

"Good, you're awake." She smiled. "Irie-sensei told me you were here." She made her way over to him, sitting in the chair that his mother had been occupying up until that point.

"Yeah, I'm… sorry I didn't show up yesterday."

She shook her head. "You just wanted to walk home with me, right? We could just do that whenever, you know." That was likely the first positive thing he'd heard all day. "You definitely don't _look_ alright." She drew closer and went as far as to put her hand on his forehead. For a few moments he forgot he was hospitalized. "I didn't really hear much about what happened, but Natsumi-san did this, didn't she?"

"Ah… Yeah, that's the long and short of it."

"That's horrible. But since you're still here, you haven't been sent away, right?"

"Yeah, whatever that's worth."

She frowned. "Hey, that's not the attitude that'll get you through this, alright? Rika's family helps out with this kind of thing all the time. It'll work out in the end, cross my heart."

He looked at her, smiling like that, realized how close their faces were, and without any kind of warning he kissed her. It was the drowsiness that drove him more than anything else, but he would not make any excuses – it didn't matter if he was drunk out of his mind. In that moment, that is what he would have done, no matter what.

It was about as simple as a kiss could be. At least, it was for the moment. But sure enough it wouldn't become anything else – she backed away no more than a second later. Her smile was gone.

"I shouldn't have done that." He spoke, barely above a whisper.

He silently prayed that she would've said something along the lines of _no, it's okay, you just took me by surprise!_ But as already established, this was a world where such blissful wishes and dreams did not exist.

She struggled several times, but she could not speak.

Instead he spoke once more, voicing a thought he knew to be true somewhere deep in his heart. "Just tell me. You're going out with aniki, right?" His eyes were cold and pierced straight through her.

"W-Well, that's…" And she looked away, clearly disgusted by that gaze, unable to find the words to challenge it. There was a mixture of things dancing across her face, but it was more than obvious that he was right. She was so expressive that it was hard for her to hide what she was thinking.

 _Maybe he noticed that too._

No. Not like this. He could understand Suguru, he could understand the other children. He knew in his heart that Keiichi did not value him nearly as much as he was valued. But this was a nightmare the likes of which he couldn't have dreamed up in a thousand lifetimes.

"I-I'm sorry, I have to go." With that she was gone, denying him the chance to react. Denying him any kind of catharsis. His face must have been quite the ghastly sight.

He wanted to shout at her – that was the very first notion that came to him after that. He wanted to call her whatever disgraceful name he could think of.

But he held his tongue. He wasn't a magician. He couldn't read her mind. He had no way of knowing what she was thinking.

In the end, it was remarkable how well anime and video games managed to capture the _worst_ aspects of that scenario. Of course, if you factor in for a moment how those unpaid animators living on peanuts and socially inexperienced game designers got to where they were in life, it doesn't seem so impressive. On the bright side of things, he now qualified for one of those positions, at least fundamentally.

But at that point all that mattered was how long it was going to take him to finally die. But he was already down on his luck in that regard, given how he was forced to live through that exchange. If he could have picked the exact moment he would have died, it would have been five minutes prior.

"Tomita-kun, can you hear me?" At some point Doctor Kyosuke had re-entered the room and brought his face down to meet his with concerned eyes. The only reply he could manage was a small nod. "Was it the same as before?" Another nod.

His mother returned to the room and was in all of an instant at his side. "You said the medicine would stop this from happening." She directed her frustration at Doctor Kyosuke.

"The medication is working as intended. These continued episodes are hardly epileptic – Tomita-kun, can you tell me anything more? About what it is that you're feeling when these things happen?"

He'd already explained the sensation many times – the hands crawling up his body, jerking him every which way. He was already out of ways to describe it all.

But this time, words suddenly came to him. "It feels like there's something missing. Like something important is broken."

His mother could only convey confusion – but Doctor Kyosuke's face was trying to express something else entirely. Curiosity at first – then understanding.

"What does it sound like?" He asked, after a few moments of silence.

"What…?"

"The sound of that something breaking."

"Doctor Kyosuke, I hardly thing this is a good thing to be –"

He cut off his mother all on his own. "It just broke."

Though perhaps the 'breaking' didn't convey the whole truth.

It was more as though something had 'crumbled away', which until that point had shielded something else. What sort of world did he live in, truly? What good was his personal construct? What value did he have as an individual? Until now he had answers to all of those things, and they were answers that made sense.

But all at once those answers were revealed to be simple falsehoods. Things that had no meaning. He was powerless, unlikeable, and completely dependent on other people for virtually everything sans the air that he used to breathe. He tried to make up for these things in his own way, but never in a way that really mattered. Sure, he could entertain children. But that was all.

So then what was left? What was there to look towards?

Just what would his mother have to do to provide all on her own? She hadn't had a job in such a long time and she wasn't sitting on an inheritance or had much to her name to begin with. She could perhaps win something in the divorce, but at what cost? He barely knew who he was anymore – how did he have any guarantee that his father wouldn't respond radically? And was it really all his fault to begin with? Hadn't he only stood by something he believed in, even if it drove him over the edge?

And why did it have to be this way in the first place? Why did there need to be a divorce? Why couldn't things have just remained the way they always had been?

There was no safety, no security, no stability. He couldn't place a blame. He couldn't trust anyone. He didn't know nearly enough about anyone involved, even though they were his parents. It wasn't clear who had been the one to make the mistakes.

The easiest path to take was to simply blame himself, and so he did. He didn't pay enough attention. He didn't try to do anything when the violence started since he was too afraid. He'd been too thoughtless. Too ignorant. Maybe if he tried something, _anything_ , things would've gone differently.

 _No, no, it's not your fault!_ He could hear his mother already.

In the back of his mind he recalled something about virtues, but he couldn't associate the thought with anything. Ultimately, all that mattered was the blame. And so he would continue to blame himself for as long as was necessary.

His relationships with others were meaningless things – that's why they were so easy to form and maintain. And it wasn't only the fault of others, but his as well, for he was a fool for believing they were anything more than that in the first place.

For a moment he pictured those two together. The mere thought made him want to throw up. It was sickening – something unclean, unholy. But in the end, the end it was only natural.

He pictured Satoko's smiling face from only minutes ago. She always carried herself with a certain air, not as refined as Rika's but enough so to indicate she wanted everyone to treat her like a princess. The way she spoke, the way she walked – some of the biggest things he'd liked about her in the first place. Things that set her apart from everyone else, that made her seem like something special. But in the end, she foamed at the mouth, moaned like a pig and sucked dicks like everyone else did. And he could tell just from the look on her face, when he'd asked about him, and again when he'd asked him about her.

Just about everyone showed him that face, when they're asked about who it was they happened to be fucking. _Wow, what's this kid doing asking me about that?_ Trying to suppress a laugh, trying to hide behind their laughable idea of maturity, or in her case, behind an uncomfortable silence. It was a look he hated more than anything else in the world. Half the reason he joined that shitty baseball team was because its owner was the only one that didn't.

Those relationships – no, merely those conversations were phony. And the less important someone was, the less work people would put into those phony things. Keiichi was a fireman – whatever values he still held onto he could only have for his own sanity, not because he believed in them. Whatever he'd told him was pure horseshit. He cared about himself, first and foremost. All that nonsense he told him about responsibility and being a man was nothing but.

People fuck, have kids, and maybe get married. And the only reason why the third part is granted a simple 'maybe' is because after going about living their phony lives for so long, people suddenly think they're entitled to something that isn't. And they bitch, and they moan, and they fight, and eventually they split up. The ones that are dumb enough try again, and maybe again after that, even though no matter what the end outcome will always be the same.

Perhaps if he was an adult, perhaps if he could have recalled those virtues, he could have put all that aside. Maybe he could have even learned to become phony himself. But he was not, and so something shattered. Something that he could not live without, and there was nothing to fill the hole it left behind.

When Doctor Kyosuke left the room and only his mother was left, he spoke his mind.

"Go home."

"W-What?"

"I mean, don't worry about me. Find someplace to live and stay there – I don't really get it all that well, but it'll be easier if you do that without me, right?"

"Daiki, are you still hurting anywhere? Please, just tell me if –"

"Just forget about me. You're gonna die at lot sooner if you don't.'

"I'm not going to do a thing like that!" Her face twisted as she shouted, though mere moments later was shocked by her own tone. She sighed and hung her head. "Why? Why would you even say something like that?"

"Because it's too difficult. We don't have enough money without Dad."

"Who told you a thing like that?"

"I'm _not_ stupid." He raised his voice, though more with frustration than with anything else. "A-And you haven't had a job in so long, and I know you'd never think about getting up and leaving so I'm telling you right now."

He could see the exact moment her heart shattered, written across her face, time stamp and all. It was only natural. It was the kind of reaction she would have, a look reserved only for the worst people in the world – she'd shown it to his father, and now to him. That was it, he figured. That would be enough to convince her.

"None of that matters." Then suddenly, there was no trace of that. Instead there was that burning contempt that he had seen only once, the night before. She wiped away her tears before they could fall, shook her head vigorously. "No, you're right about one thing, I know I'm not a strong person. Maybe that was the real reason I married your father to begin with, because he took me despite that." She took hold of one of his cold hands. It was only then that he really looked at her – her eyes were dark and heavy, her skin was pale as the moon. The only part of her that she was maintaining was her hair. "We're going to move to a guest room on the Furude grounds until we find a place in the city. I don't care what I have to do - I'm never going to leave you."

"But that's not -"

"I don't care how much sense it makes. I don't care how I'm going to have to make that money. You're my son, my whole world, and I won't ever part from you. Even if I wasted my whole life hiding in other people's shadows, even if I never learned how to take care of myself, I still put you here. All the bad decisions I made, all the problems I had growing up brought you into my life, and I even if I had another chance I'd make all those mistakes all over again. And I'm not going to let anyone waste yours, least of all you."

"But, I don't -"

"This is _my_ fault. I was so worried about failing as a mother that I took the easy way out. All I did was enforce the things you shouldn't do, and left everything else to your father. I should've realized that you were old enough to need someone to be _honest_ with you."

"Then tell me. What's really wrong with me? Why is it so hard for - "

"The truth is you're fine just the way you are. We can be whoever we want to be. But if we think we have to change who we are just because things get hard and not because we really _want_ to, that's just no good. You're still a boy – you have plenty of time to think hard about who you want to be. And it's my job to make sure that choice is all yours. You understand?"

All he could do was nod his head. His face felt warm, and before he knew it he found himself crying.

"And the first thing we're going to do once Doctor Kyosuke lets you out is work all this doom and gloom out of your system, okay?" She smiled at him finally, her eyes gleaming with her inane devotion.

She pulled him close and held him there. And then he remembered. Honesty. Compassion. Valor. Justice. Sacrifice. Honor. Spirituality. Humility.

Suddenly the door burst open, and Suguru of all people came flying in, skidding to a halt.

"I-Is he dead?!" He started shouting, while the two of them merely gawked at him.

"O-Oh, Suguru-kun." His mother's voice had at last regained its dignity, and she spoke as she always did. "Good, we were just talking about going into the city this weekend. Maybe you could join us?"

"Um, okay, I guess..." Suguru's skepticism wasn't misplaced – she'd been an emotional wreck until a few moments ago and her eyes were still puffed.

"Oh, don't give me that look. If you still need convincing we can go for takoyaki."

"T-Takoyaki? A-Are you serious?!" Suguru was about as shocked as he was. His mother was always as compulsive about his fried food consumption as possible.

He could finally see it again – glimpses of the life he used to have.

He could not scrap and rebuild himself. He would not. No matter what anyone told him – never again. He would stay the way he was until the day he died. This was who he wanted to be – and no matter how inadequate he felt, he was, above all else, not alone.

* * *

 _The Fifth Day_

"Please, daddy? Oji-san wants to speak with you _so_ badly!"

Even when Natsumi called out to him sweetly there was no change. Kiichiro Kimiyoshi was ever the stone wall. He was a man that clearly hated the world he lived in and everyone around him, yet here he was, presiding over it with what Keiichi had perceived as an unhealthy obsession, something deeply rooted in some personal mania or another. On this particular night he hadn't even called for them in an acceptable state of dress – all he had on was a black robe, as though he'd walked out of the shower only minutes ago.

"I will not have it. That man has turned our family away time and time again – and, as I've reminded you time and again, he is no uncle of yours." When he wasn't made of stone, he was made of molten rock.

"Kimiyoshi-san, if you can just hear us out a little here -" Of course, poor Keiichi had only met the man once before, and knew nothing of arguing with him. Commonplace politeness had no place in front of him.

"If Takumi Furude believes there is an incident worth mentioning he will consult the head of his house directly. And I will not have you of all people insist that a matter over which you know nothing is worth considering."

"I..." He wanted to tell him outright that he trusted him – that he trusted Takumi's judgment, that a fight that man believed was not worth fighting could not have been anything but. But through Kiichiro's violent glare, and the ever looming presence of Noro and Kijima just behind him stopped him from protesting any further.

"Well... Okay!" Natsumi gave up awfully quickly – it was beyond obvious that she wanted to break into the estate more than anything else. Though Keiichi more or less knew from the start that was no way she would have defend his point of view for very long anyway. "What's our next move, then?"

"The men stationed at the Sonozaki estate are yakuza from a distant city. Their leader is the captain of the Majima family, Goro Majima, who carries a cane and moves between the main hall of the estate and the northern most entrance to the catacombs on a daily basis. This much you gathered yourself, but a survey is just a survey. Tell me how effective your men are at breaking and entering."

"I can do it myself -" Natsumi was quick to volunteer.

"Absolutely not. Maebara – he is the closest to those two children out of all of you, correct?"

"Mii-chan will listen to me if I go talk to her –"

"No, that won't do. We're beyond conversing at this point. You'll be representing our organization tonight, Maebara."

"A-Alright, just tell me what I have to do." Keiichi was stunned from the moment his name came up.

"Infiltrate the Sonozaki estate, abduct Mion Sonozaki, and bring her here. We will force their hand. Force the Sonozaki family and those thugs to negotiate on our terms. Once she is in our hands, or if escape becomes impossible and the need arises, engage the men." As expected, it was the Kimiyoshi brand of operation, one that did as much damage as possible with no casualties.

"If Keiichi-kun gets captured, then they'll know we sent him -"

"Not necessarily. No, without a doubt that girl will come to his defense should the mission fail. Whether or not he will survive is up for debate but there will be no incrimination. Using him poses the least amount of risk to the rest of us. And, more importantly, as long as we can secure the target beforehand, even a violent escape plan is permissible."

"Hardly. Without any backing from the Furude family there's no way we won't have a summons in the morning. I don't approve sending in this kid either." Noro spoke up.

"Don't speak unless spoken to, kurd."

"Make no mistake – I may serve, but I am no slave. My employers have no input on this matter. Therefore, I have no need to go along with your demands blindly. I will be deferring to Natsumi and no other. But if I'm asked to act against the desires of my employers, I'll burn this house down myself."

"And Natsumi takes her orders from _me_. And don't act as though the Powers That Be have any regard for the lives of anyone in this village."

"That remains to be seen." It was rather impressive, how Noro was more than effective at countering someone as retentive as her father.

"Oh, enough of this. We will go through with this plan as is. You're dismissed… And see to it that thing doesn't track anything on the floor." He directed his attention to Kijima, who was sitting on the floor at the very back of the room, chewing on a lamb chop.

With that they left as ordered, Keiichi notably paler and Noro pulling at Kijima to follow as he made his exit.

"Not you." Kiichiro called out to Natsumi, who stopped in her tracks. She turned and smiled at him as she always did.

"Enough of that. I won't have you parading that false innocence in front of me."

"Hm?" She continued to smile, though her eyes did narrow slightly.

"I won't ask again. This business regards your principle task, I have no time for your games." Without another word he drew something from his robe and tossed it at her. It was a thin black book, with a cheap binding that seemed to be made out of the bark of a tree. Adorning its cover was a curious symbol – a stitched in illustration of a skull with great ram-like horns made with felt.

The contents were best described as gibberish – what appeared to be a list of some sort that went on for several pages was handwritten rather sloppily in some sort of script she couldn't begin to understand. The pages were yellow and stiff with age, but beyond that they held some coarse quality to them that made it seem as though they'd come straight off a tree.

"What language is this?"

"It's written in Avestan."

"I don't know what that is."

"Avestan – named after the Avesta, a religious text from the middle east. Zoroastrianism, its sole practitioner, is a monotheistic faith not unlike our own, or that of our Christian invaders. The proper Avesta supposedly contains a sort of registry of all living things – if anything, this text takes after that."

"Where did you find this?"

"It came into my possession after the search of the Tomita household. The father was invested in Catholicism, that much he admitted himself, yet this appeared in his belongings. We can no longer hold him without that Kuraudo sticking his nose in our affairs, so he will have to go free before we can divulge its true meaning out of him. I have little doubt that this book contains a list of the key conspirators, and if we're lucky we'll have the name of this Onigiri himself."

"Is there some way we can translate this?"

"Once tonight's mission is completed, seek out Furude's daughter. Start there, and do not report back to me until substantial results are evident."

"Of course." Her reply was simple and curt. Then she smiled at him again. "Will that be all papa?"

"Leave at once. Time is of the absolute essence."

Of course by this he meant _don't come home until the job is done._ Fortunately the most she'd ever spent away from home was a day and a half – and this hardly sounded like the most difficult task to complete.

* * *

 _The Sixth Day_

The Irie Clinic was the only medical facility in the entire village – staffed with one doctor and two nurses, it tended to the needs of the entire village, but not for anything less than a steep price. And though Irie Kyosuke, the man that ran it, would have loved to help people entirely for free, such was not the nature of their village. The more types of medicine that were developed, the harder it was to secure sufficient quantities of everything. The village administration did not even profit from the high prices and merely cut its losses – finding pharmaceutical companies that were willing to ship their supplies to the village at reasonable prices was difficult, and strong arming them was impossible due to government subsidy and control.

Despite that, priority was always given to the three ruling families, often entirely free of charge. There were naturally rumors of how this had killed villagers in the past, but such slander was punishable by dismemberment, and so was hard to come by in the current state of things.

In this case, however, it was a bit more involved than simply favoring a member of a head family – it was deliberately choosing sides in what was likely to become a feud between the lot of them.

Mion was unconscious, though it was mostly stress related than anything else. Naturally, there was no sign of the 'fake' Mion that Keiichi had reported from the night before. Whatever the circumstances behind that individual were, there was little chance that answers would come in any acceptable metric of time.

In the hours since the night before, the Furude family formally declared their intent to smoke the yakuza out, using the disappearance of Hana as the basis for their plan. It appeared that regardless of how successfully a meeting with the Kimiyoshi family went, preparations to storm the ground had already been made. Whether or not Takumi had been aware of that at any point remained to be seen. Not a single monk had died or even been seriously injured during the fighting – the yakuza were intentionally refusing to use lethal force. And the strangeness did not stop there – another thing that made about as little sense as possible was how the monks that stormed the grounds were seemingly aware of that.

All suspicions aside, what was clear was that Mion was currently a valuable resource, wanted as a bargaining chip by all sides. And for now she was in the Kimiyoshi family's hands, but there was no way of knowing how long that would last.

She was there that day for two reasons – one, because she had to ensure that Doctor Kyosuke was willing to cooperate going forward, and two, it was her duty both to Mion as her friend and as the heir of one of Hinamizawa's greatest houses.

And she was there too – Rika Furude, who had skipped school as well to pay Mion a visit. She knew that Rika cared virtually nothing for the inner workings of her family, so her reasons had little to do with that. Though Natsumi had a sinking suspicion that she wasn't here as a friend either.

Even though they were friends, Natsumi did not know her as the shining girl that frequented head pats and cat noises – certainly not to the extent to which she knew her as the brooding witch of the Furude clan, always locked deep within her chambers, scrawling her madness across the walls with vivid images depicting violence and terror. Rumor had it that her mania ran much deeper than that, and from a very young age she had been building contraptions from junk found the garbage dump just on the other side of the wall.

Even so she showed no trace of that person on that day, as there was often a disconnect between the Rika that showed herself to the other children and the one that struck all manners of discomfort into the adults around her. Until now the two of them had simply been standing there, watching Mion sleep. No matter what the two of them felt for each other, Mion was their friend, one of the only friends Rika had, and in the end Natsumi was no different.

The three of them here were the future of Hinamizawa, and to a serious extent Mion had brought them all together. Their club was created primarily for that purpose – for the three families to come together on a very casual level while doing good for the villagers they presided over at the same time. And it was their individual failings to uphold virtually anything that they might have learned through its duration led them to this day.

Rika was too interested in her own wellbeing to retain anything about reaching out to other people. Natsumi dealt more with suppressing an issue the moment it appeared than she did with considering its consequences. Mion's issue, of course, was that she believed the two could perform well regardless. She was always confident that if something ever happened to her, that the other two would be able to fix things in her place.

The current situation was a lot more complex than that. Right now Mion was the tool being used for the fixing, but it still wasn't clear exactly what was going to be done with her. And the two of them were only on the same side just for the moment. If Natsumi's father wished it, the Furude monks' assistance would be deemed an insult and a fissure would form between the two families, and therefore between the two of them, and it was because of this tempestuous nature that these two could never truly be friends, no matter what anyone tried to do.

She wanted to ask Rika what she was here for, but she found herself unable to phrase it properly. She wasn't even sure if she cared enough about what was going on around her to have an answer for her. But as most silences do, the particularly awkward one hanging in that room broke with a frustrated sigh.

"There's a limit to how long I'm going to wait around here if you're not going to ask me any questions." The Rika here today seemed to be the secluded one, with neither concern nor remorse present anywhere. This Rika was terrifying to behold, at least if you knew the other to any extent. This Rika was not a child – she didn't speak like or act like one.

"Aren't we visiting Mii-chan right now?"

"Yeah, but it's not like she's going to suddenly wake up. You want to ask me about that book, I know already. Go right ahead and ask."

"…Well, can you translate it?"

"Yep. I won't though."

"Alright, name your price."

"Nah, before that, I need to tell you something about the people that did this to her."

"I'll take anything I can get."

"Mion's grandma is already dead."

"Are you sure?"

"Two of the men from the estate brought her body to the tower earlier this morning. No one killed her. Honestly, you pulled this stunt a little too late – if obaa-chan was still alive, and you had gotten _her_ out instead, we could've started tearing down the walls on her orders and no one would've tried to do shit."

Sure, that made sense, but it wasn't a Kiichiro Kimiyoshi plan. In his mind having the heir was far more valuable than having the head, and in most cases when the head was as old as Oryou Sonozaki had been – and how sick she was - he would've been mostly justified in that regard. And, furthermore, he hated the woman more than anyone else – the two of them had never seen eye to eye on a single matter, regardless of how much time passed.

One of the most basic components of Hinamizawa's was the clan system, under which all families, no matter how high ranked, had a designated head approved by the Powers That Be, without which a family essentially did not exist. The head of a clan by law comes from a proper lineage, dictated by blood relation. Should this proper lineage be wiped out, the next head is determined as the most suitable in the eyes of the Powers That Be.

For instance, the head of the Maebara family is Maebara Ichiro, and his first heir is Maebara Keiichi. Should Ichiro die, Keiichi succeeds him as the head of the family. However, if Keiichi were to die without a proper heir, the position of head passes to his closest living relative, which in this case would be Maebara Asumu, his mother. Were _she_ to die, or her right to lead the clan revoked at some point prior either by a former head _or_ by law enforcement, unless some suitable relative existed to inherit the clan, it would dissolve entirely and it, along with its lands and titles, would pass to another family at the behest of the Powers That Be. It is through this system that foreign families are brought into Hinamizawa to maintain the population at a tenable level, though the actual process of moving people into the Promised Land is quite a bit more difficult than one would at first suspect.

For the Sonozaki family, with Oryou dead, with Sonozaki Akane disowned by her, the clan belonged to her grandchildren. However, with Shion missing entirely and Mion unable to claim her title properly, what was left was a family with no head, and therefore no legal recourse until the Powers That Be deliberately chose to intervene.

By revealing that Oryou was dead, the Majima family ensured that they could not be held accountable for the state Mion was recovered in. However, at the same time they revealed the power vacuum in the Sonozaki family, which meant that the other two families could act upon that property in whatever way they saw fit.

"If it's that bad, then can't we just tear down the front gate and drive them out ourselves? Or is there some way those men can seize the family from Mii-chan and Shii-chan?"

"The Powers That Be don't defer to foreign powers on any matters, yet this had gone on for as long as it has, and we've heard absolutely nothing from any of them. Not even my Mom has any idea what's happening, but after this morning I know for sure what's happening on their end."

"I don't follow."

"It's obvious, isn't it? They _aren't_ a foreign power, least not completely– they've got someone that's part of that proper lineage."

"One of them _is_ a Sonozaki?"

"Wanna guess who?"

"It has to be Majima."

"Those were my thoughts, yes. No one can do anything until the Powers That Be send word, and if anyone acts outside of their intended parameters they're screwed. But there's been nothing. No notes, no ravens, nothing."

"Then what can be done?"

"Well, basically nothing. My mother has to take a stance on all of this given how we did pull something last night, on whose orders I've got no clue. But the thing is, as I'm sure you've noticed, the longer one of the three families stays out of touch with the rest of the village, the harder your job gets."

It was true – ever since this whole mess began, the Catholic sect was making larger leaps and strides. People were being less careful, and every time some one screwed up the fire department had to take care of them. Even Natsumi knew that there was a point where once enough houses had been burned, people would start questioning whether or not it was really the outliers that were being persecuted.

"That's good for you, isn't it?"

"I don't like this any more than you do. I'd like to be able to go between my room and school – and back, maybe, but let's not ask for miracles here - without people breaking down in front of me over how shitty their lives are."

"Then what's the solution?"

"Kill the Onigiri, obviously." She was a little surprised to hear such a blunt reply – there was always part of her that believed the Furude family was involved in the Catholic spread. Then again, they still may have, but Rika simply didn't care.

"And isn't that book going to help with that?"

"Nah. It's about something else entirely, something that's got nothing to do with you."

"So you've read it before?"

"Yeah, it's mine. I lent it to Tomita-kun once, mostly to make fun of him. I wasn't expecting him to keep it. I don't know much about the binding but I wrote in all the words myself."

"I see..." Natsumi sighed, her one lead having gone up in smoke.

"Say, you heard that Satoko's leaving the village right?"

"Really?! I had no idea."

"Yeah, her mom told her they're moving in with one of her boyfriends because they don't have enough money. But what's weird about that is they're all caught up with their payments, and I even went and checked with the tower – no one's made any inquiries or anything. They're completely clean."

"So she's not trying to shield her or anything – she's just lying straight out."

"So I did a little digging around their property, you know, talking to the neighbors and stuff. It turns out, someone from the Majima family appeared at their front door seven days ago. I'd bet my bear print PJs that she wants out so quickly because of whatever it was they told her."

"I see… There's only one thing we can do, then."

Rika's initial response was a sigh. "I really ought to defang you one of these days… I enjoy talking to her. Satoko, I mean. If you hurt her, you'll regret it. Her mother is the only one that has anything to hide."

"I'll act within my boundaries." With that she turned to leave the room, the conversation heading in a direction she wasn't prepared for.

"Ah, but you're struggling to deal with it, right? How she stole Keiichi from you?" It seemed as though she was too late. "Maybe I shouldn't trust you to see this through after all."

She turned toward her again – Rika's eyes were critical and knowing. There wasn't even the slightest trace of pity – she had overstepped her boundary, much like she always did, and like every other time she simply didn't care. She enjoyed it, toying with other people, not disregarding their feelings like a child but rather knowing them all inside and out and twisting them in her fingers like some sort of monster.

She always imagined that one day when she was old enough Rika would start throwing her body into the mix – she already showed signs of sexual impulses. Destroying families, ending relationships, all while bedding as many people as she could possibly want – that was easily the kind of life she would lead.

"That's nonsense." But all she did was smile back. And it was such simple smile, not unlike any other smile she'd ever shown.

"It'll swallow you up and spit you right back out, you know. It's too late for you to find something else to believe in. Your dad made sure of that."

No, it wasn't possible. Of all the things this demon could have possibly known, that _had_ to have been off the table. Yet, she'd said it as casually as she'd ever said anything else, and it wasn't a warning – no, not with that smirk on her face. It was a mockery. It wasn't a declaration of war, no, they'd skipped straight to the part where the victor takes their spoils.

She had no choice – she escaped the room no more than a half a second later, her breath already ragged. She made her way down the hall, soaring straight past Doctor Kyosuke, all sorts of thoughts drowning out her sense of reason. She managed to escape the building, finding Noro standing just outside the entrance.

Without a single word she grabbed him by the collar of his coat and started beating on him with her fists. Their exchange is wordless – he simply stands there, taking the abuse without so much as flinching. Noro was a stone wall, and in more than one sense. And she wailed on him over and over, the face of that vile witch and that smirk, digging deeper into her than any knife could.

Even now she had to have been watching, cackling to herself, enjoying every moment of her pain. That all-knowing smirk, those holier-than-thou eyes – if she ever had the opportunity to kill her she'd take it. She'd make her cry out and apologize for everything she'd ever said. Then she'd lop off her fingers and toes one by one and -

No, it wasn't enough. Even fantasizing about killing her wasn't enough. It would never be enough – not when that monster held _that_ over her head. She had to go and just _do it_.

Twenty-one hours a day – work, school, club, work, school, club, work. Three hours of sleep every night for three years – and now even most of that was just spent dealing with urges. She went on and on like an idiot, and she did it because that was _her_ job, _her_ purpose. But if she were right there, in front of her, she would have done it. She would've damned herself, her father, everything she worked so hard, day and night to build. She would've killed a twelve year old girl, slowly, painfully, just because she knew _everything._ She had exactly what she needed to tear her down, and she _knew_ she did, but was deliberately choosing not to just to watch her squirm.

But she wasn't allowed to have those kinds of thoughts. She was _trained_ to be more rational. But no, this was hardly the first time. The nights are long. The devotion is powerful but tiring. She is ignorant of the hypocrisy in it all, but at the very least it's not the world she knows – none of it is. It's the world she decided to live in, but it wasn't the world she was born into. In truth she'd been on the verge of collapse for awhile now. The more she listened to those two, the further and further her catharsis slipped away.

There is so much wrong in the world. She can't correct it by herself. She can't save the people that need to be saved. But no one will stand by her. No, instead everyone around her will continue to commit wrong after wrong until wrong becomes right.

In the end, her arms and legs finally gave way to exhaustion and she fell backward, landing on her back. Until that moment she hadn't noticed her knuckles, battered and oozing with blood. She smeared her face with her blood – it was cooling, and the copper smell did much to stave off her rampage.

"Will that be all?" Noro asked shortly after, as though what had happened was the most normal thing in the world.

"Yeah, you can go home... I'll call you later." She said between exasperated pants.

And with that he disappeared into the shade of the trees nearby, leaving her to deal with her mania.

This was still not enough.

She had no choice. She could no longer wait – she had to turn to him, before she was drowned in her madness. Even if she had to string him along against his will, tonight had to be the night.

* * *

 _The Seventh Morning_

He stumbled out of the fire department, his hand still wrapped in the same soiled bandages and his knees about to give way. As one might have imagined, the dismemberment was not the end of his punishment. Not when those two demons seemed to hate him as much as they did. Kijima seemed greatly upset that Keiichi had broken the law, and suggested he'd be flogged. Even Noro was hesitant to go through with the idea, but Natsumi didn't forbid it.

He knew she still loved him, however. It was just that pain seemed to be the only way she could express that. Whatever had happened to her ran deeper than he could ever reach. But at this point, he really didn't care about that anymore.

He'd learned something horrifying about himself that night – and there he was the next morning dealing with it.

He staggered through the streets, wandering aimlessly, struggling between the half of him that wanted to crawl into a ball and die and the other that naturally sought out help from other people.

In the end, the latter half won out, even if it was only a temporary victory. After everything that had happened, he needed to do something, virtually anything else to avoid losing his mind completely. And there was only one place he could go – one place he could find any of that kind of catharsis.

The Houjou home was on the far end of the village – by the time he'd made it there blood was dripping through his bandages. Fortunately, someone was home when he rang the doorbell.

The moment she saw his hand she nearly screamed. It was fortunate that her mother was out at the moment – she brought him in as quickly as possible and fumbled through the kitchen cabinets trying to find a first aid kit.

Once it was certain his hand wasn't bleeding anymore, she broke down completely. She cried, apologizing over and over – she knew the significance of the wound. She knew why he'd gotten it and who'd given it to him. All he could do was sit with her until He couldn't really coax her into calming down – he wasn't entirely sure that he really wanted to right now. In fact, he was beginning to question his decision to reach out to her to begin with.

He did all he could to explain the madness to her. But by the time he was finished she didn't seem to be any less confused.

"If you really wanna hurt me, then just do it. If that'll make you feel better, then I don't care." Naturally that was her first thought – the most drastic, stupid thing he could think of.

"Hey, don't say something like that -"

"I mean it – this is my fault to begin with. If that's what you want to do I'll go through with it."

"No, it's not a solution, it's not like that – and I don't want to hurt you, either."

"Then if you don't want to be that kind of person anymore then just stop being them!"

"I can't do that, dammit! I don't know how to! I can't put down my axe, I can't quite the department, I can't fucking tune her out, even – if it was just her, maybe, and that's a huge fucking maybe, I could get it done. But this shit runs way deeper than that. Including that story I promised I'd never tell you."

"Ah..."

"I tried to bury it somewhere where no one could find it – the part that actually liked hurting other people. But I can't do shit with it – it's not going anywhere. I can forget about it for a little while, but there's this endless reinforcement, that the part I hate the most is the only thing that matters, that without it I'd be _nothing_. And sometimes I feel like that's the truth. I can't pretend that I can overcome it anymore – I'm just scared as shit that one day I'm going to succumb completely."

They were both a little surprised by his tone of voice – he'd never yelled at her like that, not once.

"I'm sorry." Satoko gave in to the silence first.

"This isn't your fault."

"No, it really is. I can't be of any help to anyone, 'specially not you. I screwed things up with Rika, Homura-chan, even Tomita-san – I can't even talk to you without making a mess."

"It's not like that, I haven't even given you all the details –"

"Just forget about it. You're not even supposed to be here right now anyway, right? Have Irie-sensei look at your hand and go home."

"Oh, just _shut up_ already, will you?"

"H-Huh?"

"If you weren't here, if I couldn't come to you like this, I would've imploded a long time ago. I don't know if that's because there was something attractive about breaking the rules or because I actually liked being with you, but that really doesn't make the least bit of difference. I've fucked up way more times than most people ever get to, but I know for sure I did _not_ fuck up choosing you over everyone else."

"Even if you really meant that, it doesn't matter anymore, does it? I'm leaving in a few days anyway."

"Then just move in with me."

"W-What? Don't say something so stupid."

"I'm serious. Do you want to stay here or not?"

"Well..." She trailed off into a silence. Her face twisted briefly, before she nodded.

"Then just do it. Your mom definitely won't try to stop you."

"You sound pretty sure of that."

"I only ever met her once, but she just wants you to be happy. That, and even if she doesn't trust me, she'll trust my parents. All you have to do is tell her – tell her that you don't want to leave everyone behind. And don't worry about my parents, they're hardly around to begin with, and I actually make money from burning people's houses down, so none of that's going to be a concern-"

"Wait, just stop, I need to actually think about this, you know?"

"Please. I don't know how much long I can keep this up if you leave. And if I have to remember you like this for the rest of my life then fucking forget it."

"But I can't even help you deal with this."

"That's not what I need."

"Then _what?_ What do you need from me?"

There was no doubt in his mind that he would continue making mistakes, again and again from here on out. He didn't have a tolerance for clashing ideologies. He didn't have the strength to make up for his weaknesses. As a result, he could not live alone. He could either live with someone that would help him make up for that, or someone that would drown him in his weaknesses until he became them completely.

"I need you to pull me back. That's all."

He didn't want to drown. He wanted to keep his head above the waves. He didn't want to forget everything besides the violence and its meaning. He wanted to live in the sun. Satoko could not solve the root of the problem. But she could always hold him up. She could always make him forget the nightmare, even if only for a little while.

"But anyone can do that."

"But I want _you_ to do it."

She was completely floored. She hadn't expected his answer to be both simple and powerful at the same time. She thought about it, as hard as she could – more than anything else, she wanted someone to be able to lean on her. She'd lost too many friends by being unable to do anything for them when they needed her the most. But this was something she could do. It was an easy way out – it wasn't a solution to anyone's problems but her own. But he had been broken enough that he willing to accept that.

The only way he could ever overcome Natsumi and that part of him that threatened to destroy everything he'd ever worked to build was with someone else. He had no idea how he would eventually do it. But all that came later. What was needed now was reassurance that no matter what he had to do to reach that point, that there would be something left for him once it was all said and done.

"Then, I want something, too... Actually, no, I want a bunch of things." She suddenly barked at him, a bit more composed than she'd been moments ago.

"Alright, let's hear it."

"If you really think I'm going to clean up after all your messes, then you're sorely mistaken. I'm expecting you to clean up all the laundry and food related ones. That includes mine."

"A-Alright?"

"And if I tell you I want to go to a restaurant in the city, trying to talk me out of it isn't allowed. When I say I want to eat something, I mean it. And if I want to go see a movie, you drop whatever it is you're doing and you take me to see it."

"Okay..."

"And... Uh, if I want..."

"What, is this one gonna be about teasing you about broccoli and -"

"No, you dumbass! I-If I ever want kids, you'd better not argue with me about it!"

"Hey, aren't you thinking _way_ too far ahead about this?"

"You're the one planning on going on like this for the rest of your life! I've gotta be ready for that too, don't I?!"

"O-Oh... Alright."

"That's it."

"There's no way that's all -"

"I'll figure out the rest later. Those... Those were just the things I wanted the most."

* * *

 _The Seventh Night_

It was nearly time for Satoko's mother to come home, at which point the hopefully short process of convincing her to let Satoko stay in Hinamizawa would begin. Up until that moment, the two of them had simply been together, while he explained much of what he had been involved in prior to moving to the village. They also had sex at one point, though that was the less significant aspect of their afternoon.

At the time, he was on the couch in what he assumed was the living room, while Satoko was allegedly baking some kind of sugary product in the kitchen, which he expected to be served on a small army of plates. It turned out that she was very committed to having Keiichi do the dishes, and was as greedy about it as possible – for both lunch and dinner she went out of her way to use as many plates for as little food as possible and had him wash each and every one of them by hand.

He'd decided that there were very few better ways that conversation earlier could have gone. He was expecting her to turn him away fairly quickly, Maybe after some time passed she'd realize what she'd gotten herself into and back out. Then again, she was too proud to do something like that. All she really needed was some positive reinforcement, and suddenly she'd have a heart of gold.

In the time he'd spent away from Natsumi, he'd managed to compose himself. The things she'd said about him weren't really wrong. He did understand the finer points of the things she advocated, but she didn't really believe in them herself. Despite that, she went on and on like some kind of monster.

There had to have been a way to get through to her. Even if not a particularly apparent one. The first place to start, he concluded, would be confronting Kiichiro Kimiyoshi and somehow getting the full story out of him – something that was _far_ easier said than done.

For now, he had to focus on this new goal he'd established for himself. From this point on he had to act in a way that would ensure he could keep getting back to Satoko. That was the first step towards finding out what kind of person it was possible for him to be.

Suddenly there was a crash, coming from the kitchen – staggering to his feet he stumbled into the room, having already prepared a witty insult. And then -

And then one of his worst nightmares suddenly flashed before his eyes. Satoko was standing there, wide eyed, a shattered plate with assorted cookies and sugary goodness scattered across the floor. And just across from her was Noro, standing in the doorway silently.

Moving as fast as he could, he put himself between them, jerking his neck the wrong way in the process.

"Whatever it is, just say it and get out." He was a little shocked – until now, the mere thought of Noro terrified him, but in that moment he finally managed to stand up to him.

There was a long silence, but finally the masked man spoke. "Leave now." Immediately he knew there was something wrong – there wasn't _any_ of Noro's usual voice, instead what came from behind the mask was the voice of someone tired and anxious.

"...What?"

"It's not safe here."

"Wait, what the fuck are you -"

"Natsumi brought in her mother. She's coming after her next."

"Wha...?" Satoko's reaction wasn't all that different from his.

"Wait, what the hell? Why would she – What does she even have to do with –"

But he couldn't get a word in edgewise.

"Goro Majima – she was seen speaking to a man with that name. I don't know anything more than that, but Natsumi's on her way here. You have to go now, you understand?"

"Wait, why the hell do _you_ suddenly care what happens to anyone else? How do we know she's not waiting for us right outside?!"

"I won't repeat myself. Go now."

This development was happening far too quickly. He didn't know why Noro of all people had suddenly shown up out of nowhere to _help_ them no more than a few hours after maiming him over the same person he was now helping flee the law – even putting it into words was hard, but for now all they could do was flee.

"Alright, let's go." It was Satoko that committed first.

"A-Are you sure?" His confusion was justified – she wasn't even privy to any of the information he was, yet she came to such a conclusion on her own.

"I know it sounds stupid, but... I think we can trust him." She stared into his mask, her eyes looking for something, though he couldn't place what.

Sure enough, in a situation where nothing but a wholehearted thank-you was appropriate, Noro merely nodded in reply.

"How the hell are we gonna outrun her, though…?"

"We'll think of something. Together, this time." Satoko grasped his hand firmly.

"…Right." He nodded, moving to the door, Satoko in one hand and his axe in the other.

"This is the last time." Noro said, shortly before they were out of earshot.

They moved down the street, on a route he knew would take them out of the village – the only place he could flee to was his house. It might not have been the _best_ hiding spot in the world, but it was the only one that occurred to him at the time. He nearly stumbled several times on their way over a small bump in the road, but at the very least he felt stronger than he did before.

He wasn't thinking all that rationally at the moment. The only thought running through his head was his simple goal. He had to protect Satoko, no matter what that entailed. He wasn't sure if he could turn against Natsumi completely, but as long as he didn't have to face her directly, he could manage.

Though the moment Noro came after them – and he most certainly would – that would be the endgame. There was no way he could fend him off, and at that point everything would've been for naught.

Before too long he heard the familiar siren – and sure enough, the Kimiyoshi fire truck had just turned the corner and was speeding down the road with Noro sitting atop it, hitting a pedestrian in the process but not stopping for even a moment. They had no choice but to change course. And at that point it was no longer about escaping as much as it was about hiding.

With a sharp turn they took to the side streets, doing everything they could to prevent the truck from following them in a straight line, all the while hearing the trucks various collisions with things in the background. The killing intent was worse than it had ever been before – whatever Natsumi had heard, it was serious. Something that was too substantial for him to be getting into like this.

They hid in a small alley between two buildings behind some trash cans. They were certain they hadn't been seen, and after a few moments it was apparent that the truck was now simply going back and forth, waiting for them to emerge.

And it was at that point that everything started to sink in. What the hell was he doing? He wasn't just going to get a note staked to the wall for this – this was serious. This was a stupid move, perhaps the worst one possible – avoiding law enforcement, causing tremendous amounts of property damage, injuries, maybe even deaths at that point – how many people in the history of Hinamizawa had done something so foolish?

This was it – this was the end. He was fucked, Satoko was fucked, his parents would be fucked. Maybe he should just give up. Maybe Natsumi will take him back even if it costs him a whole arm or leg this time. That way the smallest number of people would end up hurt.

"I don't know what the hell we're gonna do," he said aloud. He wasn't willing, and was only barely able to begin with. Needless to say, Satoko didn't have an answer –she was perhaps just as exhausted as he was.

There's no guarantee that Natsumi wouldn't kill Satoko without warning if they gave themselves up. There's no guarantee that _he_ would make it out in one piece either.

"We should go find Rika." Satoko finally spoke up. "I don't know for how long but she could look after us – Furude-san would agree to it too if she insisted."

"No way. Her family won't take sides with us, no matter what."

"No, but Rika would. Even if she didn't want to talk to me she'd listen to you."

He thought for a moment – she certainly had a point.

"Well, it's a better plan than what I've got. You ready?"

She nodded, and with that he took hold of her and they bolted out of the alleyway, their destination now the Furude Tower. They timed their exit well, but it didn't take the fire truck more than thirty seconds to spot them.

They came to a stop by the school grounds, having run out of turns to lose the fire truck. Making it to the Furude grounds was for the moment an impossibility – they would have to lose Natsumi in the schoolhouse if they were to have any chance. But he already knew that this was it – this was their last stand. Now was the time – to either be eliminated or stand up and fight. The unfortunate thing was, he wasn't equipped for either.

They ended up taking refuge in the main building, Keiichi having the keys to the front door through the graces of being a fireman.

Keiichi came to a stop by the lockers. "Find something to protect yourself with."

"What, do you have somewhere better to be right now?!" Satoko complained.

"I'm not really expecting being able to protect you every step of the way here. If we get separated at all and you've got nothing, we lose by default."

She sighed and began going through the lockers, very quickly finding an old baseball bat in one of them. She eyed it curiously for a few moments before returning to him.

"Will this work?"

"Yeah, if you were going to fend off a cat. But yeah, it'll have to do."

"So now what?"

"We get to the third floor. Then I'll hide by the staircase and jump anyone that comes out. While I distract them you find some way to the side building."

"And leave you here? Are you crazy?!"

"If it's just me that gets caught, I can probably get away in one piece. If they get you, it's all over."

"Geez, don't ask me to do anything like this ever again, okay?"

They made it to the second floor before they heard the fire truck pull over nearby. There wasn't a chance they'd been seen quite just yet – Natsumi was simply being precautious.

Despite that, Noro came flying in through the window no more than a few seconds later, Satoko having been in front at the time and would've been scooped up right then and there if not for Keiichi's quick movement. Before another instant could pass he leapt towards them, Keiichi only managing to push Satoko out of the way before the collision.

Noro had struck him with the force of a freight train which proved far too much for the building's foundations to take. Satoko cried out as they both crashed through the flimsy support of the floor beneath them, landing in a classroom on the first floor. In the brief confusion Keiichi feebly swung his axe, but Noro's avoided every swing with the greatest of ease.

Keiichi managed to pull himself to his feet, while Noro had backed away, blocking the only escape route there was.

"Think about this one more time. You know she'll take you back, even now. I doubt even the Powers That Be would try to go against her authority."

"How do you expect me to believe words coming someone who can't make up their own mind about what they want to do with themselves?"

"I don't get your meaning."

"One moment you're trying to help us escape, the next it's like none of that ever happened. Do you _really_ want to be a slave the rest of your life, or do you want to start acting on what you're really thinking?"

"I may serve, but I'm no –"

"Nah, a slave is exactly what you are. Even if you're just a slave to yourself."

"Heh, I have to admit, even for a teenager that's some pretty pretentious shit – you might want to go with something else for your last words."

"I already figured out how I'm going to carry on from here on out. If I go back on that now, I'd be no better than you." He raised his axe in front of him defensively. "At this point if that gets me killed, so fuckin' be it. If I'm gonna die, if I'm gonna destroy my family or whatever the fuck else, it'll be on my terms. No one else's."

Noro brandished his twin daggers, one black and one white, each sharp enough to at least chip bone. The mask hid his true feelings, though for the first time Keiichi was sure there was reluctance in him. But he couldn't disobey – it ran deeper for him than was imaginable. Even for Keiichi who had been tied down only by his own rationale, it was hard enough to break away. For Noro it must have been not only emotionally, but physically impossible.

"Alright, I get it. Let's see how little your determination is worth."

His first flurry of swings was little more than a warning. But even so Keiichi could only hold his axe as a defensive measure in response, rather than stage any kind of counterattack. Right away it was clear this was not a fight he was going to win on his own merits. Within the next few seconds he already had lost his footing and in the next Noro pushed him through a wall with a kick that had simply too much force behind it.

Crashing into the desks and nearly splitting his head open on jutting steel, Keiichi tried what he could to scramble away, making it no more than a few feet before Noro had grabbed hold of his ankle and with a grunt lifted his whole body and tossed him across the room. It was all too easy – he didn't stand a chance.

This time he managed to stand up, and in what he assumed going in was a vain attempt, charged forward, ready to swing the axe. And the axe made its home in Noro's lower abdomen, at which point the man simply stopped mid swing.

But Keiichi wasn't stupid – he knew the stories, he knew that such a blow would achieve nothing, and so ripped the axe out with as much force as he could.

He staggered backward – and he could see it, the blood shimmering on the blade of the axe, and then flowing freely from the hole in Noro's abdomen. Noro looked down, his disbelief apparent in how he slowly touched the wound and stared at the crimson ooze on his fingers. Keiichi was just as stunned – for a moment, there was hope, even if only for a moment, even if it didn't make any sense. All he had to do was step forward and –

But Noro came flying at him, rattled enough by the wound he'd suffered that his movements were no longer smooth and coherent – he swung almost blindly, successfully cutting into Keiichi's arms, but not deep enough to do real damage. He ended his violent flurry with a swift kick that once again sent him flying through a wall, this time into a store room. And as he did his axe went flying, lodging itself in some gym equipment that was only just out of reach. He tried to move – only then did he realize that a huge chunk of the wall had ended up lodged in his left leg, now wedged between two crates.

Noro drew closer. Everything seemed to slow down for a few moments, his heart pumping about as fast as it could – and before he knew it, he had fumbled around, grabbed hold of a stray baseball bat and swung it as hard as he could, ramming it into Noro's knees, and at that moment he finally managed to free his leg of the crates, though it took sliding the splintering wood out of it as slowly as possible. The blunt force to Noro's legs set him off balance just long enough for him to recover the axe, and as the daggers descended upon him he reversed his grip on the axe and drove it upward –

The blade cut open Noro's stomach, sinking far deeper than the previous strike had. He groaned, and leaning over Keiichi with his daggers having missed their mark entirely, he was wide open. In that brief moment, Keiichi yanked on the axe to rip it out, opening the wound even further, but as he did, there was a sudden rumble, like a violent earthquake that shook the building.

But the rumble continued, and only grew more violent – in no more than a few seconds the entire building started to collapse, the ceiling collapsing and the walls caving visible just through the doorway. It was no earthquake, it was an explosion – a demolition. Colossal in scale, that had shattered the entire school house, and the two of them were there, in that small cramped space, and were soon caught in its fallout. Dust fell from the above, sprawling cracks formed in the plaster – even the floor, on this ground level, felt uncertain.

For a moment he was in a daze, but Noro certainly was not. Before he knew it, he'd been grabbed by the shoulders and tossed out into the hallway. He only just managed to roll out of the way of a desk falling from the upper floors. His leg was still in poor shapoe, but at the very least he was able to move.

Only at that moment he found himself looking towards that storeroom – Noro was there, on his knees attempting to pull himself through the doorway, and just past him – just past him was a heap of wood fallen from the ceiling, that had landed right where he'd been no more than a few seconds prior. A few seconds of struggling to rise to his feet later, he abandoned all notion of escape and simply knelt there.

"Why did you save me?" Keiichi's only remaining question was simple.

"I'm good as gone anyway, so I'm doing what I think is right, or whatever the fuck it was you said. Now go on, get out of here. Those two need you." He raised his arm, which appeared to be enough of a struggle in of itself, and pointed towards Keiichi's axe. "And keep that thing close."

"Why? What's –"

"I've never gotten to decide how I wanted to live. That girl is really no different – the illusion of free will, something only a step above where I am. But if I knew that tiny fuckin' thing could've given me what I was afraid would never come whenever the hell I wanted it, maybe things would've been different."

The building shook violently once more, causing more debris to fall from above. Keiichi managed to avoid the bulk of it, being struck in the side by a stray textbook, but when he looked back towards Noro, he found a huge wooden beam had descended and pierced him straight through the chest, his blood splashed across everything around him.

He coughed and coughed, his shaky arms creeping their way up to his face, his fingers wrapping around his keaton mask and then tearing open the leather strappings that kept it mounted to his face. A toxic haze of smoke rose from beneath it – and the man that resided within was exposed – his eyes shone like the moon, and his face was scarred, but recognizable. Particularly to Keiichi, of all people, for the face was a reflection of his own, those tired eyes staring back at him much like a reflection would.

"It doesn't mean anything to you but -" He coughed blood onto the wooden beam and nearly choked out then, but with much effort spoke his last words. "My name – it's Kanbei. Don't forget it." With that he hung his head and breathed his last.

It was only a moment later that the entire structure above him collapsed, burying him in a pile of wood and steel. Keiichi suddenly snapped back to reality, having to put his train of thought on hold to escape the collapsing building.

He turned away, backing out into the entrance to the building – and Satoko was there, on the other end of the hallway. She called out to him once more as he limped in her direction – but stopping him dead in his tracks was a flash of light and a metallic snapping.

The siderite cleaver soared across the air just in front of him and managed a thin slice across his forehead. And Natsumi was there just to his right, in the entranceway. Or, at the very least, a scowling monster wearing her face.

He held up the axe against her as she stormed across – but he wasn't quite ready to put up a fight and with little effort she yanked it from his grasp and snapped it in two with her bare hands. Grabbing him by the throat she managed to lift him off the ground completely.

"By now you've figured out that even I have my limits, right Keiichi-kun?" But of course he couldn't reply, and instead Satoko's shouting was all that came to his defense.

But before the situation was able to develop any further, the remnants of the building shook violently once more – and then like a waterfall, the entire structure rained down on top of them all at once like a flood.

Consciousness slipped away, along with all sense of feeling in his arms or legs.

All that was left after that was a deep black and a muffled crescendo of splitting wood, clanging steel and crushing plaster.

But it wasn't quite over just yet. At the very least what was certain was that he was alive. And in that moment, when she glared at him with those empty eyes, that he could overcome her.

When he woke, he would put a stop to this. But his greatest fear would still not subside – that in the end, it would have all been for nothing.


	7. Yzctk ox ovp Fmqu

_Chapter 7: Yzctk ox ovp Fmqu_

When he came to he was alone – Satoko was nowhere to be seen, and though the feeling of her hand against his throat yet lingered Natsumi had vanished as well. He woke in the entrance hall just beneath a series of toppled lockers, the hallways behind him consumed by ash, soot, and steel. Much to his surprise leg had been patched up, so at the very least someone had found him at one point and presumably hid him away.

He pulled himself out of the wreckage with little issue, being virtually unscathed otherwise - there was no longer a roof above him, or much of a floor beneath him – all that remained of the schoolhouse was a hollow skeleton, and the sky above was a boiling red abyss. There was no sun, no moon, no stars – only the endless dance of black and red, high in the sky as though the whole world were wrapped in its darkness.

Stumbling out of that space, he found a familiar baseball bat just off to the side – it seemed as though it was Satoko that had not only survived the wreckage but had saved him as well, though why she was no longer there wasn't clear. Propping himself up with it he proceeded out of the ruins, calling her name as he did so.

What was beyond the wreckage of the school yard was not accurately described as Hinamizawa, but rather its scorched remains. Eveywhere he looked, as far as the eye could see, was an incomprehensible smoldering heap.

He was more than certain that there were hundreds dead, though not a single body was in sight. The only thing that was certain was that the wall was no more, and the mass of beggars that clawed at its foundations had seized the village for all that it could have ever possibly been worth.

Just how long did it take for all of this to happen? An hour? Ten hours? There wasn't much sense in trying to distinguish the difference, at least not anymore – for no matter how much time passed there was nothing but the hazy sky and the howling wind and raving screams all around.

It had finally happened – the people of Mahamatsuri had struck back – and they had claimed the land they held so dear. It had happened so suddenly, and without warning – but somehow the deed had been done, and Hinamizawa had unceremoniously become a burning wreck.

The street before him was entirely in ruin, and the further down it he walked the worse the damage was. The beggars of Mahamatsuri had struck with a vengeance unlike anything he could have possibly understood – and they continued to storm the village, lighting aflame everything in their path as they made their way deeper, presumably towards the Furude Tower, which couldn't be seen even partially through the smoke.

Many of them were Catholic, chanting Hail Mary-s and Our Father-s as they moved about like gremlins from one property to the next, leaving no stone left unturned.

Much to his confusion he came across the Sonozaki estate first, despite the school house being nowhere near it. But regardless both it, and its nearly uncountable generations of use were cleansed in the flames as well, but without so much as an unconscious body in sight. Instead the conflagration was rife with looters and half naked men running around with their well known 'fuck the Sonozakis' chant fresh in the air, urinating on the wreckage and on each other in their daze. There was no yakuza, no Sonozaki family – there was just a burning heap, as though all the tension and turmoil in Hinamizawa's social structure had been suspended eternally as it all fell apart at the seams.

He proceeded further down the road to where he assumed his house was. The power lines had all been toppled, the fields burned, the cars left in fried heaps, the homes ransacked. There were beggars spray painting buildings, drilling holes through walls for easier home invasions – there were even some fornicating in the streets.

And he couldn't help but wonder – what good were all the traditions, all the carefully preserved culture, the sense of order that had kept Hinamizawa together for so long worth now? What were those countless nights of handing out punishment after punishment? What meaning did they have? Here there was no structure, no semblance of law or order – there was just mindless, haphazard discord, and there was no end to it in sight. No police, no ambulances – there was nothing but the fire and those that were hysterically trampling through it.

All of this was for the sake of an absolution. An absolution that did not exist. And by now Mahamatsuri had to have been well aware of that simple fact that Hinamizawa had kept hidden away for so very long. Now, all that was left was the fire, and the carefully built up stack of lies that had caused all of this to happen in the first place was the tinder upon which Hinamizawa now burned.

Before too long he came across a beggar that had managed to latch onto a villager that hadn't been able to get away in time – a small girl, younger than most that would've gone to school in the village. And the beggar was in the process of making short work of her clothing, very nearly foaming at the mouth in excitement over the prospect of having his way with such a small child.

And the girl had spotted him standing there watching it all unfold, and started crying to him for help. The beggar followed her eyes and saw him as well, and only laughed at him, his lecherousness overtaking any other emotion he could've possibly expressed.

By the time the man had his pants down there was a gaping hole in the back of his head, deep enough to more than merely pierce the brain, his bowels soon voiding for all the world to see. He fell over to the side and the girl crawled away, kicking and screaming all the way before scampering off into the flames.

In the end it turned out that killing a man was not all that different from tearing a door down.

It wasn't really until that moment that it all sank in – that the daily life he'd come to know was gone forever. He knew the life he struggled to build, brick by brick, the internal struggle he had and the changes he'd made to deal with it – none of them meant anything.

He had killed a man. And in doing so he'd realized just how worthless life truly was.

A man was dead, yet lightning hadn't come down on him from the heavens. His hands that he'd used to swing the bat were still firmly attached to the rest of his body. He'd committed the worst sin of all. Yet here he stood, in just as much of a daze as he had been before.

He hadn't killed that man because he wanted to save the girl – no, that wasn't the real reason. That might've been what had killed his hesitation, but it wasn't the drive behind the act. He'd killed him because he'd legitimately wanted to. He didn't care what values or what symbolism went into it. The look on his face had disgusted him – the sound of his laugh had, too. He hated the man enough just for existing to want him dead. He'd passed judgment upon that man – a task fit only for God – in a matter of seconds, with no justification other than the simple fact that he _didn't like him_.

Therefore, if there had ever even been on in the first place, there was surely no god here. All that mattered in this world he now lived in was how hard you could bludgeon or how fast you could pull a trigger.

And that was all. No meaning in protecting the people he loved, because he was so weak that he could only barely overcome his own psychosis. No meaning in pretending that a world without violence was the natural state of things. Effectively he had died the moment he'd taken another man's life – there wasn't a single aspect of the Keiichi Maebara that had struggled that was granted any purpose in this new world.

But even so he still called her name as he wandered through the madness, for even in the midst of all that pointlessness there was one thing he still wanted –

He always longed for stability. But nothing in the world he knew was truly stable, even himself – except, of course, for _her_. She had stayed true to her purpose from the start, even if she had trouble shaping it.

He had to find her.

He had to find Satoko.

He needed her to tell him that everything was going to be okay. That there was going to be an end to all of this, and that things were going to go back to the way they were. Even if none of it was true.

He needed her to lie to him. After all, that was what they agreed to. That no matter what, she would pull him back.

No matter how far he walked his house never came into view – only ruined streets that he couldn't recognize and the occasional destroyed landmark that shouldn't have been where he found it.

Finally he came upon corpses – fresh corpses, but not of the villagers, but of the beggars, each dismembered cleanly and some even decapitated, their body parts strewn across the streets. In fact aside from that single lost girl there _were_ no villagers to be seen at all.

And sure enough, along that path he'd found _her_ there, wandering the hellish waste with the siderite cleaver in hand, standing over a beggar that was feebly crawling away from her and begging for mercy, his left leg reduced to a bloody stump, his right tangled in the entrails of another man.

She strode over to him and rammed her foot into his back before flipping him over and driving her cleaver straight through his throat. She then lifted him by his hair and, extending the blade, severed his head from the rest of his body, staring at his vacant eyes briefly before tossing it in a random direction.

It was more than apparent that she wasn't doing this out of the same loss of purpose that he had – after all, she was the north star, unmoving, ever constant. This was her job. This was her purpose. And she would carry it out no matter what.

It was her job to burn things down. But everything was burning. There was no reason for her to be doing any of this anymore – but she would keep going until she dropped dead. She may have now been completely hollow inside, but even then she would never stop.

She turned and saw him standing there, staring at her. Her face was naturally splashed with blood and her school uniform was drizzled in guts – there was even someone's small intestine wrapped around her shoulders and trailing behind her like a muffler. Her face was perfectly calm, showing not even the slightest sign of delirium. She did not call out to him or recognize his presence in any way beyond that – she merely turned away and continued down the street.

She roamed the narrow maze of splintering buildings as though she walked that road every day of the week – but she moved slowly enough for him to catch up to her, and before he knew it, they were on their way through the village just like they had been every morning up until that point.

And the road soon made sense, despite all the twists and turns and seemingly the retracing of steps at first. They passed all the right houses, even passing the Sonozaki estate and briefly stopping to see if Mion would emerge. But around each bend another beggar would appear, and the cleaver would pass from her hands as though in flight and find a home in another poor fool's bowels.

They did not speak. There wasn't anything to say, anyway. She clearly didn't want him dead anymore, and that was all he needed to know.

Despite everything, the Furude Tower still stood – but the fields were in shambles, the storehouse was destroyed and the housing on fire. The flowers had long since burned away and where Takumi Furude's flower garden once shone brilliantly stood a wooden cross propped up by wooden planks – the beggars were preparing for a burning that would doubtlessly bring the tower down, and were hard at work moving back and forth across the shrine grounds, pulling apart whatever they could for additional wood.

Natsumi merely stood there, however. She didn't attempt to stop a single one of them – she just watched, and he stood beside her watching as well. Much to his surprise, they were both rational enough at that moment to realize that there was nothing they could do to stop what was going to happen here.

"I couldn't anymore." She suddenly spoke, the stagnating silence finally ending. "I couldn't love people the way I used to. I needed this name and this face because my old ones were just a big jumble of all the things I hated. And if I couldn't believe in anything at all, I would've just shriveled up and died. Then I tried loving you, the same way I used to. Now I'm sure that was a mistake."

But he didn't have any words for her – especially not in that moment, when a crowd of beggars came from behind the tower, carrying someone in the air over them, nor in the next, when the captive in question turned out to be Rika, her clothes in tatters and her face scarred severely with cuts and bruises.

The crowd must have at least been partially aware that the two of them weren't any of theirs, but they didn't seem to care in the slightest, one of them tossing Keiichi a flaming torch since he was standing close to the cross.

The beggars carried Rika to the structure. It was plenty obvious what was about to happen, but as Keiichi tried to move Natsumi held him back.

"They'll kill you." She spoke quietly.

They bound her to the cross, though with cloth bindings that were hardly sturdy – but Rika was just a little girl. There was no way she'd have the strength to break them. The crowd started crying out, shrill and ecstatic – _do it! Do it! Do it!_

Rika's eyes were resolute. There was no trace of fear of any kind – she was perfectly willing to accept death here at his hand and he simply couldn't understand why. But while he stood there with the torch in his hands and the crowd cheered on, the girl at his side had no intention of waiting on him to make a decision. Without warning she pulled the torch from his hands.

"Wait, don't – that's _Rika_ , for fuck's sake!"

She didn't so much as bat an eyelash his way and merely shrugged off his attempts to stop her from approaching – for a moment her eyes met Rika's.

"If you have any peace you wish to make, do so now." She said without an ounce of empathy in her voice.

"All I have to say to you is best described as 'truth', rather than peace." It was Keiichi's first time hearing Rika speak in that tone of voice – but to Natsumi, it was the one voice she remembered her by, untouched, unbroken.

"And what truth might that be?"

"You were not born an object." She replied, doing all she could to hold back a huge smile. "But by accepting everyone's false affection, you were destined to be nothing but."

"Am I supposed to understand what –"

"You were not loved. Not once. Not by anyone that kissed you. Not by anyone that touched you. Not by anyone that stuffed you full of happy thoughts and eupjoria, not anyone that made you kill their unborn seed after the fact. They wanted your flesh, your voice, they wanted everything that you kept sacred – but they did not want your love."

Though her expression remained neutral, Natsumi's face went pale. Keiichi's objections finally stopped, unable to comprehend not just the words but the fact that they were being spoken by someone that spent her days beautifully ignorant of the world around her, whose purity served as a moral compass for him on more than one occasion.

And in that brief time where nothing seemed to make any sense, the torch went flying, igniting the straw at the base of the pyre. Without thinking he tried to move forward to save her, but Natsumi grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled back as hard as she could.

"She dies so we can live." She spoke into his ear. "She broke the rules. She pays the price."

Her words were familiar. So familiar it made him angry.

Spat much like fire, his words came forth in an uncontrollable rage. "None of that horseshit _matters_ anymore! You're no different from any other killer!"

Her face most certainly didn't show it, but she had no words to describe how deep those words had cut into her. But for the moment, none of that mattered, for the fire had spread and their friend was burning. At first she had gone very quietly, staring down at the swirling red with that same fearless look on her face. Even when they gnawed away at the tips of her toes she did not so much as brace herself.

But when the fire consumed her, she screamed. She cried and cried, the pain unlike anything she had ever felt before. The flames boiled her inside and out. Her hair burned away slowly and her scalp, dowsed with oil, caught fire all at once. But even then there was no cry for help. There was no begging for mercy, no hysterical apologizing – not even a vengeful outcry. And by the time all that was left of the girl was a charred husk, it was certain that for her dying that way meant nothing.

The crowd _wanted_ to hear those cries for help. They wanted to hear her suffer as they believed they had. Her death was, therefore, not enough. But it wasn't enough for Natsumi or Keiichi, either.

"What are you?" He asked, his eyes still glued to Rika's deceased form. "Are you even human, really?"

She had no words, and merely started off towards the tower entrance. The entire building was going to catch fire before too long but that didn't seem to be enough to stop her.

He had no other choice but to follow her. After all, he'd already decided that he would stop her, and now would have to be that time. He proceeded in after her, knowing that no matter what happened inside, he could walk out and as long as there was still hope that Satoko would be there for him to find, even if Natsumi was lost to him forever, there was still a future left to him.

The inside of the Furude Tower was plain and undecorated, even with the slightest amount of detail. There was an endless pattern of wood that crawled the walls, floor and ceiling – even the stairs were made out of the same color – he wouldn't have been surprised if all of it had come from one massive tree. The floors went on and on into the sky – there wasn't a soul to be found, despite the tower supposedly being the heart of Hinamizawa's entire government.

The highest floor – the inner sanctum of the Powers That Be. The source of all that was happening and all that ever had. A presumably century old establishment, unrivaled by any other form of law enforcement.

It was an empty, circular room with two small windows. The floor was coated in a very thick layer of dust and the air was stagnant, and as they crossed it the floorboards creaked so much it was as though they would crack under the pressure - it was clear it hadn't been used in a very long time.

At the very center was a single woman that did not react in the slightest to their arrival, illuminated by a single dim light that shone down from a cheap light fixture. It was Hinoka Furude, Rika's mother, dressed in a white kimono sitting on a cushion in the middle of the room.

"You shouldn't be in here." Natsumi started. "At the very least you could have watched your daughter die."

"She wouldn't have wanted that." Hinoka spoke. "She would've wanted me to be the one up there instead."

"Where are the rest?"

"The rest of who?"

"The dissenters. The council of elders – where is everyone else?"

"There isn't anyone else."

"I don't understand."

"There hasn't been a council of elders in nearly a hundred years, not since your family and mine ended their bloodlines."

"That can't be true."

"The only proof that the Powers That Be still exist at all are the summons. And, of course, that boy whose leash you were carrying until recently. I'd imagine all this happened because he was killed."

"Then the spread of Christianity -"

"There wasn't a spread, child. It's simply the natural order of this place."

" _Explain!_ " Natsumi extended the cleaver, thrusting it in her direction, the blade coming close enough to graze her nose.

"This place has been ingrained with the Holy Trinity since its days as the swamp village. The entire Furude family has been devoted to it for many generations."

"A secret-Christian society...?"

"During those times Hinamizawa was visited by the first Jesuit. Though he was exiled for cloaking the words of one god with the name of Oyashiro-sama, the miko of that generation fell in love with the man and his god, and took his teachings to heart. Though the other two ruling clans could not be swayed and the miko was hung for her actions, ever since the Furude women have always maintained an Onigiri to safeguard the true faith of the village, nurtured in the shadows and always growing."

"So you bought into lies?"

"The only lie was the one that we told ourselves about what Oyashiro-sama is _supposed_ to be. That vengeful horned monstrosity, the one you grew up on, was just a delusion. It was because we believed in a benevolent god that we spread Oyashiro-sama to the corners of this land."

"So then you're the ones that dug the tunnels?"

"We did not. What Mahamatsuri believed in was not salvation, but self-gratification. They could never understand – there is no salvation for beasts, only for men."

"Then who did?!"

"I don't know. I'd imagine Rika was the only one that knew for sure."

"And why is that?" Keiichi finally spoke. "Why is it that Rika is the one that supposedly knows all this shit? Wasn't she too young for any of this crap?"

"Rika was not a member of our family – she was an outsider, and chose to be such because lacked compassion for other people. As such, she saw everything going on around her, no matter how slight the detail."

"And you let her go on like that, completely unhinged?"

"No matter what we said to her or how we punished her, she never changed her way of seeing things. It didn't matter what shape it was – she loved living in her boxes. And her mind was critical and uncaring – she saw everything and everyone around her exactly the way they were. There was nothing we could do by the time we saw what she was turning into."

"And that's really what you think, huh?"

"Indeed."

"Her father didn't see things that way."

"Her father failed her more strongly than any other."

"Really? And what about you? What did _you_ do? Absolutely nothing? Did you even _try_ to understand what she was thinking?"

"My responsibilities to this clan and the mouths of this village take precedence over everything else."

"Don't give me that shit, that's not a reason!"

"Enough of this." Natsumi cut back in, readying the cleaver once more. Keiichi backed down begrudgingly, unable to get the confession he was looking for. "You don't have a use anymore."

"Are you going to kill me now? I have no expectations of living past this night regardless of what you decide to do. It won't be any different from what you felt when you watched Rika die."

"If I can't destroy my enemies outright, I have to settle for the next best thing. At the very least, you'll get to reconcile with your daughter in hell."

No more than an instant later and Hinoka Furude's head folded backward and slid from her neck, tumbling onto the floor in front of them.

"It's over now, isn't it?"

"No. The night isn't over until we get rid of all the filth that threatens our village. Just like always."

"Really? And who are you going to go after _next?"_

"That Goro Majima – he's Satoko's father. Of that I'm sure."

"What...?"

"We find him and kill him – he must be the Onigiri. He's the one that helped Mahamatsuri achieve this, by building the tunnels under the wall from the inside. Nothing else makes sense. Only then will Hinamizawa be safe."

"There _is_ no Hinamizawa anymore, don't you get it?"

"After everything you've done already, you want to stop _now_?"

"All I've done, huh? Girl, if there's one thing in the world that I know is definitely not in the natural state of things, it's your head. Every day of your life you've made it your mission to destroy families – how can't you find anything wrong with that?"

"And you followed along because you believed in it."

"No, not once. You know damn well what the real reason was. Just look around you – it's over. We know now all of the fighting wasn't for anything away. There's no point in fawning over these ashes."

"Why did you follow me up here in the first place?"

"Look, I've decided that I'm going to stay the way I am, all my faults included. When the morning finally comes and we get see the sun again, I'm going to be Keiichi Maebara again. I don't really give a shit about the true value of life or how much of a lie everything is or any of that crap – I'm going to live. Even if it's just for me, even if things are fucked up so royally that there's no one else left, I'm going to live whatever life I've got left."

"You can't honestly believe that. You're just like me, after all –"

"And that's why I'm trying to tell you – it might be impossible to forget, but we've gotta move _past it_ now. Otherwise we're either gonna end up dead or live long enough just to turn into beasts. And I can tell you right now there's nothing more meaningless than that. Even if it's not easy, even if it's going to take most of our lives, we can still do it."

"She said you didn't love me. Why would I ever believe you?"

"And quite fucking honestly, I don't. There isn't a single thing you've done that's admirable in any sense – there's nothing good, nothing just, nothing even _logical_ about any of the shit you try to justify as part of the greater good. But I told you I wouldn't leave you behind, so here I am."

"You really are a cruel person after all."

"I'm not going to lie to you anymore. I'm not going to let you bury this under any more bullshit because the only way you're ever going to walk _away_ from this is to tear down the last wall you've got."

"It's not bullshit."

"Who told you that? Your retainer?"

"He's my father."

"He's not your father. He's a heartless man, blinded by his bloodline. The guy has an inferiority complex to boot."

"He took me in when I had no one. If he didn't take me in I'd be dead, and just like you said there's no point to being dead."

"He tore down everything that you'd built up and replaced it with some fake bullshit. What kind of moral compass is that?! What kind of man does that to a child and gets _praised_ for it?!"

"Violence is a necessary adjunct –"

"Come on, children are supposed to be thoughtless, but you're not a child anymore! Lashing out at someone just because they disagree with you – that's all we were doing. You wanna tell me _that_ means anything?!"

"Those found in violation of village principles are no better than dogs! And in case you've forgotten that includes you too!"

"They're stronger than you. Stronger than me, too. All we were doing was blindly following the rules! Hinamizawa's laws and customs were all just a farce. All just a ploy for a bunch of old assholes to hide inside their little box for as long as possible. The people that stand up against that – even if they're acting on impulse, even if they haven't thought things through all the way, _even_ _if_ they put other lives at risk by doing so, at least they have the strength to _make their own decisions_!"

"Lies…"

"We fucked up royally. The both of us. I let you go on like this for so long and didn't try to change anything. We're going to walk away from this – you and me. We're going to leave this place and make up for the shit we've done, and we have to find some kind of replacement -"

" _Lies!_ "

"I'm running out of ways to say this -"

"I've heard enough. If you're going to stand in my way – even if it's you, I'm going to have to cut you down."

"Then you know what? Fucking _do it!_ But if you do, you damn well better tell my parents the truth."

" _What_ truth?!"

"That you gutted me because -"

"Because you broke protocol, got in my way and wouldn't budge!"

"Because I started saying _no._ That's the only reason."

"No, you're lying -"

"That's exactly why! Fucking say it, Natsumi! That's why! Because you wanted to take the easy way out, and I wouldn't let you. That's what you're gonna have to say, that's the only reason you could _ever_ fucking have for killing another person -"

" _You're lying!_ You don't know anything _–_ what kind of person do you think I am?!"

"You're the kind of person I hate more than anything else in the world."

"Alright, Keiichi-kun. If that's the truth, then you're just going to have to take that hatred and _kill me with it._ "

He raised his bat, holding it much like one would ready a katana. It was clearly too late – she was so far gone there wasn't any other way forward for her but to continue destroying the lives of people she didn't approve of. He'd have to stop her by force.

Natsumi extended the cleaver, bent her knees ever so slightly, and then in the next moment the two of them were locking blades, at it were.

She was overwhelmingly powerful – she was without a doubt stronger than Noro, though perhaps not quite as invincible. She had more power in her bones than most grown men, and it wasn't as though he hadn't been expecting it – he knew how well built she was, and how he paled in comparison on essentially every account.

He only had strength and speed in his arms – and so he'd have to use them to his advantage. Otherwise she'd crush him in an instant. If he could fend her off, rather than beat her outright, he could win, but that was the only way. The most he could hope to do was tire her out – he knew she had a limit, and he was almost certain that she was more than halfway there already.

With each swipe of the cleaver she scraped at the bat carving off slivers of it at a time. Each swing was well timed and fast enough to eat everything in its way straight down to the bone. Her ability to extend and retract the blade as she swung was enough to have meant the end of him had he'd not seen her do it many times before. She was fast, she was strong – but she was very predictable, at least to him. Every swipe came from a perfectly telegraphed direction, at an exact speed, and he'd come to know all of these since long ago.

And there was no doubt that she knew this – that the same power that struck fear into so many was known to him like the back of his hand. But she knew no other way – she couldn't fake him out, she couldn't start swinging blindly. She refused to come at him with anything but her best. For her best was all she had.

He parried her slashes primarily with low swings, though several were aimed towards her face when she caught on. And she would only ever back away for a moment before coming at him again, tearing a little more of the bat away each time. Whenever he ran out of space to fall back he'd push forward, and so on and so forth, every action dictated by how she came at him and from where.

But even then her limit seemed so much further away than his was.

All it would take was one slip up – and so it did, as in one seemingly innocent instance of her swing from the left, followed by a faster one from the right, he did not move the bat to his right side fast enough, causing the blade to catch his chin as she moved forward and retracted the blade – knowing what would inevitably come as the blade extended he fell backward, his head safe from its clutches, but his right forearm, which had gone up over his head as he did, was by no means so lucky.

He saw both his arm and the bat go flying, and in the next instant came the pain and the screaming and the spraying blood – she'd taken everything from his hand to slightly below his elbow with just that one swing. And he could see her eyes glinting with delight as she thrust the blade downward into his right shoulder, piercing straight through to the ground. But that wasn't enough – she kept pushing the blade as far through his shoulder as she could, to the point where he was sure she was cutting tendons. His vision swam and his hearing was drowned out by an incessant ringing in his ears.

In that moment something shattered within him – he wasn't terrified by the notion that life as he once knew it could physically no longer continue. Instead he was unbelievably angry – all rationale took flight and the only thing he could think about amidst the pain was how badly he wanted her dead.

Then the tower shook, the fire having eaten away at enough of the foundations to cause collapsing. Natsumi lost her footing and her grip on the cleaver – still unable to process everything that was happening correctly Keiichi moved on instinct, pulling the cleaver out of his shoulder and having finally found footing of some kind, charged into Natsumi, holding onto it with one hand and only just managing to point it in her direction.

The floor sagged even further and a fissure opened up in it, the tower folding inward bit by bit. Rika's mother was engulfed by the opening, and the sudden shift caused Keiichi to trip, but gave him enough momentum to drive the cleaver through Natsumi's left leg as he did so, claiming everything from the knee down in the process. He felt the wound in his left leg open up, the movement proving too stressful, and whatever strength he'd used to hold himself up on that leg promptly gave way. Natsumi meanwhile cried out and fell over, sliding straight towards the hole in the floor, though managing to hold on to a jutting floorboard that seemed able to support her weight before being swallowed completely.

He limped over towards her, the cleaver too far away for him to bother with – but as he did she vaulted over the edge and dragged him to the ground, pinning him down with her legs.

He could feel it, with her thighs pressed against him – the dampness of the cavern between her legs, and not from blood of any sort.

"You're really fucked up, you know that?" He spoke only facts.

"It's why we're perfect for each other."

She smiled sweetly at him for a moment, then grit her teeth and rammed her head into his while shoving her fingers into the gaping hole in his shoulder, yanking on whatever flesh she could get her clawing fingers around. He feebly swung his remaining fist at her face, then grabbing hold of it and trying to turn it away – but she still had two good arms, and used the other to make her way down his pants, pulling on his shaft as hard as she could as though to tear it right off.

It was a losing battle until the moment the floor gave way even further, the cleaver now sliding towards them and Keiichi somehow managing to grab hold of it before she could. He drove it into her side, forcing her to free both her arms to stop its advance. In that moment using his hips and legs he inverted their position, pulled the cleaver out of her side and trying to drive it straight into her – only she sacrificed one of her hands to stop it midway, and with her one good leg kicked him off of her and into the pit.

Fortunately it was a fairly short fall that was further cushioned by exposed planks of wood, but only moments after he came to a stop she descended upon him, cleaver in hand – but he rolled out of the way just in time. She landed on her good leg, the force of the impact shattering her foot, and the cleaver passed straight through the floor and out of her grasp.

Both crippled and unarmed, all that remained was their aggression. There was no deliberation or character in either of them at that point – blood addled and stricken with both grief and hatred, the two simply struck at each other again and again and again.

He wailed down on her with his one good arm, ramming his fist into her face over and over, She pushed him away, managing to end up on top of him, and grabbed him by his lower jaw, punching him again and again until his nose was a bloodied stump.

He forced himself over her again, kicking at her between her thighs as hard as he could, then attempting to break her nose using his dead arm to hold her steady, but she managed to tear them away and put two of her fingers straight through his left eye, blood gushing as the sac imploded. As he cried out she pushed even deeper, but he managed to grab hold and force her hand out, then biting down on her fingers as hard as he could, managing to bite through her index and middle fingers. Spitting them out he pushed her off and threw himself on top of her once more, grabbing a fistful of her hair and bashing her head into a spike in the splintered floors enough times to tear through her right ear.

And it went on – bits and pieces of them scattering across the sinking tower one shimmering trail of blood at a time. And they were soaked in it as well, with no concern for the blood loss that would doubtlessly kill them both if the fighting went on any longer. The surge that moved through them was carnal and desperate. Natsumi's desire to keep the world the way it was, Keiichi's desire to change everything – neither one of them were even aware of those ideals at that point. All they knew – all they needed to know – was that

And at last the floor gave way completely – the tower fell like an elevator smoke and heat engulfing them.

For a moment there was red, then black – and then nothing, for a brief few moments before his eyes snapped back open and he was faced with the sky.

He tried to stand, and very unceremoniously rose to at least one of his feet, his left leg still unable to support anything. He found the siderite cleaver close by, the mechanism broken and the blade permanently extended. Propping himself up on it he proceeded into the wreckage.

Sure enough, she was there, hanging out of a pile of rubble, a huge cavity opened in her chest, but unfairly still conscious. She saw him with her hazy eyes and smiled.

"Please don't kill me." She managed to speak.

"You want to die."

"I don't. I don't want to die."

"It's too late. You won't make it no matter what I do."

"It's not enough – it isn't fair. There were so many. So many people, and now -"

Her gag reflex suddenly kicked in, making her throw up all over the ground in front of her.

"If you don't get it by now, you won't ever." He doesn't react to the display at all – in truth his eyes were staring far past her at that point, miles into the distance. "If killing you is the only way to make it stop, then that's what I'll have to do."

"You're not a killer. Not in your heart."

"Maybe not, but I'm sure as hell getting used to it."

"I'll haunt you the rest of your life. You know that, even if you deny it now -"

"You never listened. Not once. If I actually get out of here, I'll make my peace with it one day. And I'll have people to help me do it, too."

"I hate you."

As though struck by lightning he suddenly remembers it – the dream, the ocean, the dying girl.

"No you don't."

"And why... Why wouldn't I?"

"Because we're best friends. Now and forever."

Her eyes widened for a moment, and in the next he had plunged the cleaver into her heart. And with that she passed. He didn't look at her corpse any more than he had to.

Only then did he realize he'd never called her by her real name – not once. Maybe that of all things was the key. The key to unlocking her closed heart. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he'd given up on saving her from herself quite awhile ago. It was a rather dull realization, something he really knew just barely beneath the surface, yet didn't consider until that moment. But it didn't matter now, she was gone, and there was no changing that fact.

And just like that he was alone again – so, of course, all there was left was for him to continue his search, even if he was only minutes away from expiring.

He wandered through the now abandoned ruins of the Furude grounds, the cross Rika had been strapped to little more than a pile of ashes.

The shrine residence was still at least partially in tact, and so he passed through its remains while calling for Satoko. Much to his surprise, there was a response.

It was a soft coughing sound, so slight it was a wonder he'd caught it at all. He traced the sound to a small dark room. He fumbled around looking for a light switch, but there wasn't one, and there was furthermore no need.

On the floor in front of him was a child, huddled over a collapsed figure. It turned to face him -

It was Daiki Tomita. His eyes were dark and hollowed, his face was stained with tears. His glasses were broken, his clothes were covered in ash and soot -

"Aniki..." He spoke, his voice cracked.

"Daiki, you're... You're still here."

"What... happened to you?"

"Listen, I need to know – I need to know if you've seen Satoko." He showed him his arm. "I don't have a lot of time, y'see, and..."

"...I understand." The boy nodded his head after a few brief moments of silence. "She's at Irie-sensei's clinic. I tried to help her, but she ran away from me."

"O-Okay, let's go, can you walk? I can -" He tried moving a bit too quickly and his bad leg caught up with him, nearly causing a stumble.

"We'll go together." The boy stood up and proceeded out the door, holding Keiichi by the arm and managing to support him to some extent.

The two of them proceeded out the door and through the rubble. The Irie Clinic wasn't much of a walk from the shrine – he'd figured out how to retain as much of his blood as possible, and if they at least made it to medical supplies fast enough, he might have actually been able to survive.

"Do you know if anyone else is alive?" There was seemingly none of the boy he knew present at the moment – he sounded as though all the life had been sucked from him.

"Natsumi was, until a few moments ago."

"That's a shame. I never got to thank her."

"For what?"

"She saved me from the fire, after all."

"Ah, that's right..."

They crossed the field and proceeded into the woods, the indirect path to the clinic being the one thing that seemed to go exactly the way it was supposed to.

"What was it like?" Daiki suddenly asked him halfway to the destination. "You killed Natsumi, right?"

"Yeah, I did."

"What did it feel like?"

"Well, it didn't feel good, that much I can tell you."

"Do you regret it?"

"I didn't have a choice. She didn't give me one."

"Did you decide that before or after you lost an arm?"

"I don't remember, really."

"I see..."

As they moved Keiichi needed to support himself with the nearby trees – Daiki was certainly a help, but he was a bit too small to make the whole trip on his own strength.

"Where's your mom, by the way? Did you find her?"

"My mom..."

Suddenly Daiki stopped moving.

"Mom, Suguru, everyone's dead."

"I'm sorry."

"She dead, and... do you have any idea what they did to her?"

"Hey, I can't-"

Suddenly he was pushed, landing on his back. Daiki was standing over him, his eyes suddenly sharp and swelling with fury.

"I really thought about it, you know. I thought I could stop myself, but it's just too hard."

"Look, I know you've got a lot to be mad about but -"

"All this time, so many people totally ruined, and that's all you have to say? You _don't know?!_ It's _hard to remember?!_ Is that all it was? Something you could've done at any time without a second thought?!"

"What...?"

"I need a reason! A reason why my mom is dead but you get to go home and fuck your girlfriend like nothing happened!" The moment those words came out there was a hint of regret - even if it was there for only a moment, even if it would ultimately never show itself ever again, he'd seen it.

"I know I fucked up, and I'm sorry, but it's not that simple -"

"Who _cares_ if you're sorry? What good does admitting you're wrong do for everyone else?! What good is a fucking _apology_ to people that're dead?!"

He didn't have anything for those words – he hadn't thought about that at all until that moment. No, It wasn't just a matter of him, or Natsumi, or any of his close friends – many people had lost so much to the fire department, and in the end all he had done was act in the heat of the moment. And he wanted to come to terms with that by relying on someone else. But not once did it occur to him that maybe he didn't deserve that chance.

"It's not enough. It won't _ever_ be enough if you just get to walk away from that, even if you lose an arm, even if you lose a leg, even if you were _fucking paraplegic_ , don't you get that?!"

"Tell me what I have to do. Look, I'll do anything, please, just take me to her -"

Then he saw the flash of a knife, and in the next moment a seething pain tore through his chest. And everything from that point passed by in a series of barely coherent flashes- Daiki's look of disbelief as he stared at his bloodied hands in an unbridled hatred he had no control over, his attempt to flee as the ground around them began to shake, then a brief cry as a flaming branch descended from above and trapped the boy beneath it.

He wanted to call out to him, but at the same time he wanted to curse him, he wanted to tell him any number of cruel things – it wouldn't have been justified, but he would've done it. In the end all that came about once Daiki's screaming ceased was silence.

With that he was left alone, there in the splintering wood to spend his final moments in silence.

And as he died, he realized just how much of this ruin was his own doing.

Natsumi could have been saved. But he cowered and hid, so she had to die because of it. Daiki could have been saved. But he cowered and hid, so his life was ruined and his family destroyed. Mion could have been saved. But he cowered and hid, and so she was lost to whatever dark pit she had been hidden in. Then there were all the other people he could've prevented the suffering of that he couldn't even remember the names of.

So in the end, just as he feared, what he had done amounted to very little. Instead, what he had failed to do had formed a massive pile.. His own personal justification meant absolutely nothing, his self-pity was unsubstantial – for at this point, all that could have come from him, from his bond with Natsumi, from the friendships he'd built over the last two years, all the good that could have been born had been lost in the darkness and the flames.

And as he breathed his last, he no longer cared about anything, or anyone, and he returned to the dirt as something even dirt would ultimately cast aside.

* * *

Tips are next. They won't be the typical kind.


	8. Tips

_**Tips**_

 _TIP I : Recording From The Irie Clinic, March 24_ _th_ _, 1984_

"How long has he been up?"

"Four hours. So far he seems fairly stable."

"Any signs of the procedure?"

"If you ask him questions about himself there's a little feedback, but otherwise he can hold a conversation."

"Is it always like this?"

"I wouldn't know. This is the first time we've ever done a total conversion like this."

"Of course. Well, I suppose there's only one way to find out."

"Wait, are you sure you want to -"

"Now or later – what's the difference, really? Either he gets the job done the way he is or we wipe him and start over."

[Door opening, then closing. Footsteps, metal scraping.]

"Now then – can you hear me?"

"I hear a sound."

"What about your eyes? Can you _see_ me?"

"You... You're me."

"No, not quite."

"I don't understand."

"Tell me your name."

"Seki... Majima. Goro... Goro Majima."

"Good. Now what about your occupation?"

"Mafia crimelord... Seven... Seventeen years in Odaiba, five in Roppongi."

"That's right. A lot of people look up to you, in fact they always have – you're a real family man in their eyes. Now – what about your family? What can you tell me about them?"

"Taro... Taro Majima. Dad. He took good care of me."

"Now, your mother... Tell me. Tell me about your mother – your real mother."

"My real... mother..."

"You know who she is. You've never met her, but you know – that's why you're here in this world, after all, because you -"

"I have to meet her. I have to see her... Mother..."

"Good, _good!_ And what did she do to you?"

"Dad... she made him... She made him poor, she took all his money -"

"No, it was more than just that -"

"She ruined his life...!"

"And she left you to die, didn't she?"

"To die... Yes, mother left me to die...! I have to... I have to kill mother -"

[Snapping sound, loud yelp.]

"No, you fool, death is not the answer. You _know_ the answer. Now tell me – tell me the truth."

"The night brims with defiled scum..."

"And is permeated by -"

"By their rotten stench. Rotten... I'm going to tear down everything she built – not with... death, but with..."

"Death is never the end. No, for you, the only end is to set your eyes upon the next generation."

"The next generation. I have to ki... I have to corrupt the next generation."

" _Yes._ That is the ideal you embody."

"But... But she's so young. She's just a little girl, Satoko is -"

[Snap, loud gasp.]

"What did you just say?"

"Satoko is – _gaaaah!"_

[Repeated snapping. Violent thrashing.]

"I'll ask you again. The next generation. Who must you corrupt?"

[Snapping continues for sixty seconds.]

"My... My... _Ahhh! No more, please, no more!"_

" _Who?!_ Tell me who!"

"S-Sono...Sonozaki Shion...!"

[Snapping stops.]

"That's right. The youngest offered up as food for the gods."

"One must be as water... One must be as water..."

"What on _earth_ are you muttering?"

"I told her... I told her to come with us but she – _Haaaaaaah!_ "

"Let's try something else… Now then _Majima-san_ , let's see what you have to say about this."

"What's..."

"You can see them, right? The boy in the girl in that picture. Where was this taken?"

"Okinawa... 1978. The family trip."

"Correct. Now, tell me who the girl is."

"That's her... Shion."

"Good. Now what about the boy?"

"But someone couldn't... She couldn't go because... _Gaaah!_ "

[Thrashing.]

"Tell me about the _boy,_ Majima-san."

"What boy?! I don't see a...! A...! I don't see a boy, it's just her! Just the girl!"

"Are you _sure_ you don't see a boy?"

"A-Am I suppposed to see a boy? I don't, please don't hurt me again – _Pleaaase! Stooop!"_

[Thrashing.]

"Tell me who the boy is, Majima-san."

" _I don't know I don't know I don't know!"_

"Yes, that's good. You were right – there is no boy in this picture. And even if there was, that boy would not exist. Now, look here."

"That's... That's me."

"Yes. This is the real you. You understand? You and I – we have no relation. I'm just an underling. Someone that doesn't matter."

"I understand... But my hair, it's..."

"What about your hair?"

"It's not the right... No, no it's the right color. Isn't it?"

"Why? What color should your hair be?"

[Thrashing. Metal scraping. Snapping.]

"It's black. It's black it's supposed to be bla – _haah,_ no, I mean, I mean it's supposed to be b-b-blonde! It's supposed to be – _ah! Please, no, it's supposed to be -"_

"What color should your hair be?!"

[Violent shriek.]

" _Green! Green_ like a Sonozaki! Because! That's what I am! I have... I have her blood in my veins. Mother. I have to find her – to steal back my heritage... To make her pay for what she's done. To- to- to-

to _remind_ her. To remind her what real pain feels like."

"And then...?"

"I will go there... To H-Hinamizawa, for the first time since I was born... _Ugh..._ I'll pretend to be a lieutenant. Win the graces of the family... And then – and then Shion. I'll put her in a cage. But... no, no this isn't right, Shion is – _AaaAaah!"_

"You're almost there Majima-san -"

" _No! I'm not – my name isn't -"_

"Then tell me what your name is – if you value your worthless life _tell me your name!"_

"H-H-Hou... Kimi... I-I can't... I can't...!"

"Do you understand now? You are Goro Majima. There is no other part of you that has any meaning."

"But the boy..."

" _What?"_

"I need... I need to find him... The boy that I can't..."

"Yes. The boy that you can't see. You must find him."

"I..."

"Oh, enough of this."

[Electric surge, spinning magnetic tape.]

"Gh...!"

[Loud thud.]

[Footsteps.]

"...He went down rather quickly."

"He needs another week."

"I'm well aware of that. It just astounds me that such a weak person can hold onto their identity for so long."

"Well, when you break things down in to simple enough components, the identity is really all we have. It's only natural for people to cling to it more strongly than to flesh and bone."

"Aptly put. Is that your own conclusion or did doctor Furude perhaps come up with that on his own?"

"To be honest with you I really don't remember anymore."

"Well then, I supposed this concludes our business for now. I will return in five days. If he still has objections with playing his part by then we'll have to wipe him and start over."

"Now that you've seen him, I should probably tell you – at this point he's already managed to cripple himself, though only partially. If we have to wipe him again he will likely not survive the rehabilitation. The more he's exposed to it, the less likely the mind will behave the way we want it to."

"Then if he dies, so be it. The plan continues regardless of whether or not I'm able to move about freely."

"If that's what you want..."

"Just tell me one thing, doctor. Should he come to express those level five symptoms, would he perhaps... Would he be able to see it?"

"You mean Oyashiro-sama? It's entirely possible, I suppose. She has been trying to communicate with us directly for quite some time."

"It's remarkable, isn't it? Something that has no basis for existing, managing to dwell in a state of shared consciousness with multiple people – it's quite a mystery, isn't it?"

"It's not mysterious at all. Half of what the brain stimulates is determined from perceived information, while the other is determined by expectations based on that information. With enough dopamine in your system there's more than enough room for overlap between the two."

"Well, if you were to put it like that you suck the fun out of the whole notion. But you must admit, for that overlap to take the same form each and every time – surely there's something uncertain at play here."

"Yeah, you _do_ seem like the sort of person that would believe in monsters hiding in your closet."

"Oh, it's not the monsters hiding in the closet I'm afraid of. It's what the idea came from in the first place that terrifies me – that's what all of us should be afraid of, don't you think doctor?"

[End of tape.]

* * *

 _TIP II : Recording of the Conversation Between Captain Sekiguchi and Oryou Sonozaki_

"Akane…? Is that you?"

"Not quite."

"There's a voice I don't recognize."

"We've never exactly met before – I'd be quite impressed if you could identify me as I am now."

"So has the devil come for me already?"

"No, no, though I imagine you've got more than enough fight in you to scare off the real deal."

"…So then, what family do you come from?"

"By all technicality the Majima family – I've been a part of their ranks for quite some time, in fact."

"Hah, that old muscle head – it's a wonder he hasn't gambled away his fortune yet. Or is that what you're here about, perhaps?"

"If only I were so lucky. However, I'm here on business for my _other_ family – the one I was born into."

"Is that so?"

"I'm Taro Sekiguchi's son."

"Sekiguchi… I haven't heard anything from a Sekiguchi in a long time."

"I wouldn't be surprised. After all, the Sonozaki family had little interaction with us outside of buying out our drug rackets. And the legitimate business along with it, if I remember correctly."

"Ah, that sounds familiar. Taro and Matsuri, the two brothers – yes, I recall rather well. So then, what does a Sekiguchi want with an old corpse like me?"

"…You really _don't_ remember, do you?"

"You're going to have to speak up. It's a wonder I'm even self aware at this point. You said you were Taro's son – he was a quiet thing, not terribly good looking either."

"Hm, that describes him rather well, as a matter of fact."

"How is he these days? Must be quite the challenge, dealing with us old folks – I know my daughter's wanted me confined to bed like this for a _long_ time."

"He's no longer with us."

"I see. My condolences. I'm sure he lived a fulfilling life."

"He hung himself from the chandelier in our kitchen. I don't believe he was fifty."

"…That is truly unfortunate. What of your mother?"

"Well, that depends – if you're referring to the woman that raised me, she succumbed to a disease of the mind in her early forties. Fortunately she's long since passed – though she didn't go naturally either. As for my birth mother – well, I haven't had the pleasure of learning much about her. I'd imagine you'd know more about her than I do."

"Ah… I-"

"One week it would be a seizure, another a broken bone, the next a twisted ankle or a collision with a wall. It was an endless cycle – on and on, in a blur of fresh septic, hospital bills and hounding phone calls from the bank. My father didn't take very well to this – it was Around the time I went to university he turned back to the yakuza that put him on this earth to begin with. Before too long he found himself doing things he didn't believe in for money.

"At the height of all of that, I came home after a long day to find him hanging there. Mother, of course, continued on in her madness, unaware that anything had changed. Of course I knew enough to be able to tend to her on my own, no matter how much harder it would be, and for a time I did. _I could make it work_ , I told myself. _I won't give in, I'm stronger._ But before too long what was left of my father's money vanished and it became impossible for that life to continue.

"And just like that, I orphaned myself with my own two hands. And not just orphaned – unemployed, unwanted by the rest of my family, nothing to my name. But, in father's suicide note of all things, I discovered that he'd left me one thing, a quite important thing at that. A list of names – names of yakuza that he owed money that had gone towards my schooling and mother's 'treatment'. It now fell to _me_ , the sole survivor of this ruined family, to pay off the debt that had built up over the years."

"And what of those names? Did you treat them with the same respect your father did?"

"I'd long since forgotten about him – the boy that did well in school, that could ignore the meaningless tripe put forth by others his age, that could crawl up the ranks with little issue, that could withstand other people stepping on him with a straight face. No one ever really admired him in the first place. No one really gave a shit about the effort he put forth. No one would miss him if he disappeared. I suppose the only parts of that boy that remain are his scrawny bones and his love for his parents. After all, once I found out about you, it was as though I felt truly motivated to achieve something, for the first time in my life, other than simply surviving. And here we are today."

"Love for your parents? Honoring your father by straying from his path – in what world is that considered love?"

"My father was the living expression of a noble ideal. He held his family together on his own – he was a good man. And for that I was willing to inherit his burden. For that I was willing to resolve his debts. Sure, I really had no choice, but what counts is that I was willing to do it. Of course, I didn't do it the way he would have wanted – no, he would not have let me cross off the names on that list with the entrails of their owners. He never would have wanted me to turn to violence. He would have wanted me to do what was right – with just means that would lead to a just end… My father was an imbecile. All his life an insufferable fool. He never should have taken me in to begin with – I most certainly wouldn't have in his place. He should have just played to what little strength he had – found _some way_ to succeed. And in doing so find something of value to leave behind. Right from the outset he was doomed for failure – like laying down his own death sentence. But at least he figured that out at the very end."

" _You_ were what he left behind. That's all we can hope to do – to pass things on to the next generation. For many people in the end that's all that has any meaning, and there are plenty of people that die without being half as lucky as you were."

"Indeed. But simply because something has meaning does not necessarily mean it has value."

"…What is it that you want? Truly? Is my name on your list as well?"

"You see, I'm not here for money or anything quite so material. I'm not even here to eke an apology out of the woman that destroyed my father's life. I am here as a _reminder_. A reminder that your sins are _innumerable_ , and, of course, that those sins can't be covered up with lies and half-truths forever. Though I must admit, since I've come here and observed you in this state, I can't help but wonder what good reminding a dead woman will achieve."

"…You cannot."

"It's too late to intimidate your way out of this one – perhaps if I knew you as a mother, rather than as the pain of ages – maybe then you'd have something you could use as collateral."

"There's no justice in such a thing. If you must act out like a child, then exact your revenge on me. Don't involve the rest of my family in and old sin like this."

"A child, you say? What was done to my family was monstrous. There are men that have ruined lives for _far_ less. You and I would both know – we've killed plenty of that sort ourselves."

"Indeed it was, but you, as many other have, must _let it go_. Nothing will come of exacting revenge – nothing ever has. For the sake of the next generation – for the sake of those children that don't deserve to suffer for the mistakes my generation made, let this fade away. I can offer you anything else you could possibly want in return."

"It's too late, Oryou. It's far too late and I'm far too _old_ to buy into such cheap morality."

"I beg you, please –"

"Don't misunderstand. I'm well aware that the woman you are now in the twilight of your life and the one that played god with a reckless abandon are very different people – in fact, I'm more than certain that you've come to hate that person, and want to wipe her away forever. But _therein lies_ the _hypocrisy!_ You rely on simple, easy to forgive acts of aggression and exemplify them, acting as though that is the extent of your cruelty. Your fellow villagers are able to love you because they believe it. _Even your grandchildren_ are able to love you because they believe it. But you can't run from your mistakes, not truly. You can't pretend they never happened, and you can't brush off the consequences under the guise of change for the better. 'Do unto others as you would have others do unto you' – the Golden Rule of my father's faith. Better known to the rest of the world as equivalent exchange."

"Why must you resort to blood? Is there truly no other way?"

"Blood? You really have _no idea_ , do you? What's been happening in this village, in the shadow of the establishment you worked so hard to build? Blood is hardly the most valuable thing there is to take from another person. Furude understands it. Kimiyoshi understands it as well, though they've done everything they can to convince themselves that they don't. No, I will not bathe in the blood of your kin. I will bathe in their _honor_ , their _dignity_ , their moral code, their values – I will steal their very identity and tear it to shreds. I will destroy your family, and all the others that walk about this depraved earth as though their lives have greater meaning than anyone else's. What becomes of your legacy after that is not my concern."

"I can't understand you."

"Of course you can't. You don't _really_ know what it's like – the world outside this village. You all still go about your lives in terms of clans and lineage and rites of succession. You couldn't survive in the sun with the rest of the changing world, so you built a wall to keep yourself from it. You gave up the ability to understand long ago. All that's left for you to do now is to just lie there and die."

[End of tape.]

* * *

 _TIP III : recordings recovered from the Guts of the irie clinic_

 _Tape One (est. June 6_ _th_ _, 1984)_

"There's nothing to worry about, Mion. We won't let anyone take you."

"Even Natsumi?"

"Do you trust her?"

[Groaning.]

"Not as much as I used to."

"Well, at the very least you've got your attitude back."

"Yeah, well, I still don't really get how I lost it to begin with."

"Has your recollection improved at all?"

"There was just this point where nothing seemed out of place. Where I was the 'old' me from a long time ago, the one that Shion helped tear down, and everything was alright like that. Like everything I'd done for the last five years just didn't happen. But – what was different was that I didn't feel worthless this time. I could talk back to people, I could keep level headed – it was very much the same, but there were definitely some key differences. Maybe if I was like that in the first place, I could've spared everyone a lot of hardship."

"How did it feel?"

"Well, I guess it felt good. Better than I feel right now, that's for damn sure."

"What about in the cellar? What happened there? Did all of that just fall apart right away?"

"No, it wasn't until Kei-chan called out to me, but until then, I…"

"You don't have to recall anything if it'll make you feel sick. Remember this is supposed to be my specialty, but we're helping you recover first and figuring out what they did to you second."

"Right… Geez, I must sound like a piece of shit right now."

"Not at all. Instead let's focus more on that 'old' Mion. Let's talk about '78."

"'78? What happened in '78?"

"Ah, sorry, '77, right? Too many exceptional injuries this week – it's been exhausting." [Brief laughing.]

"Right. The Dam War. That was when Natsumi…"

"Yes, I've heard the stories. You stood by her for a long time after the fact, right?"

"Yeah, though not a day goes by where I don't regret it."

"What makes you say that?"

"If I did something other than console her, maybe she wouldn't have turned out the way she did."

"It's best to not dwell on maybes. And more importantly, I've been through her psychological profile with a fine toothed comb. What damage was there had been done long before she started setting houses on fire, believe me. I want to hear more about what you felt at the time, setting your regrets aside."

"Well, it was too risky to go after the upper management, especially with Okinomiya PD flying around like vultures – but the men in the trenches had real cheap housing. It was an underhanded and really fucking vulgar thing to do, but we beat them, kidnapped their loved ones, set their homes on fire. The only difference between that and an old inquisition is that we made sure no one died. I had no idea what the hell I was doing, at least not at first. I was encouraged by my grandmother, so I did it. I wanted to protect my home; that much was apparent to me back then. But I wouldn't have gone along with burning houses down like Natsumi did. Especially not after I saw what it did to her."

"It made you angry, then?"

"Yeah. By then I was already learning what it meant to be the daughter of the Sonozaki family, but I thought it was an inherently noble thing to do, you know? Now I wouldn't have even given it a second thought – I would've been the one to stand up to them. I would've done something to help Natsumi, too. Even if I had gotten hurt doing so."

"I see… Maybe you should tell her that when you next meet."

"Yeah, I really should."

[Door opening.]

"I'm sorry, but could you please –"

"Uncle Ryou?! Is that really you?"

"Ah, yeah, hi, Mion-chan, it's been awhile since I've seen you. I know it might be a bit of a shock, but this is what I look like now."

"Your voice is different, too. Hell, I'm kind of surprised I recognized you."

"Yeah, quite a bit has changed. My priorities, as well as yours."

"…You didn't tell me the two of you knew each other."

"Apologies doctor, but you never asked. Though if I'm recalling things correctly, wasn't she not supposed to remember?"

"Huh…?"

"So do you have some reason for being here, or –"

"The Grey Fox is dead. We need to move immediately."

"How? Was it –"

"Maebara-kun. With siderite, just as you said."

"Kei-chan… He killed someone?"

"Siderite from _where_? The cleaver should've been all that was left!"

"Well, you've heard the stories about Metatron and Sandalphon, haven't you?"

"…I see, so then – so then it was Ryuugu-kun's axe?!"

"At this rate, it'll be used to kill his daughter, as well."

"Wait, slow down, who did Kei-chan kill, and what's this about… H-Hey, what's with that look?"

[Brief silence, then roaring laughter.]

"So after all that time, all the careful preparations, all the sacrifices, the exile, the humiliation – and _still_ someone ended up dead in his name."

"I suggest you get your end of this underway. We've got three hours tops."

"Right, I understand. Do what you have to."

[Footsteps.]

"H-Hey, Irie-sensei? What's –"

[Loud banging.]

[End of tape.]

 _Tape 2 (est. June 7_ _th_ _1984)_

"I don't expect you to be able to understand any of this now."

"Nah, it's abundantly clear. Just tell me whose hands my friends and family are playing into – that's all I wanna know."

"For lack of a better description, no one's."

"You're going to have to be a little more specific than that."

"The whole point of this is to ensure that no one will ever have power over anyone else ever again."

"Besides you, you mean."

"Even men that call themselves kings fashion themselves a god of some kind. For once that god will be something tangible. It took the latter half of my life and quite a few bottles of brandy, but there's finally enough _mercy_ and _grace_ in people's hearts for what's left of the barriers to be broken down."

"So you wanna be a _god_ now? That's it? There's legitimately no other reason why so many people are going to die -"

"No one else close to you is going to die, at least not at his hands. That much he promised us."

"He _promised_ you?"

"Yes."

"There's no way you can be that stupid. You're still hiding something from me."

"He's not as vile as he seems on the outside."

"That's a load of horse -"

"We made it so he couldn't lie to us."

"You... I should've known from the start – there's no way he could've changed _that_ much."

"He came to us many years ago, broken and alone. But believe me, we didn't draw on anything that wasn't already there. When he showed us the pain in his heart we didn't see a monster – we saw the _king_ of monsters. Someone with hands that could do what ours could not. All we can do is build – we can't destroy things, at least not as thoroughly as he can."

"Two people important to me are dead, and I had to _eat_ them, skin and bone, because you want to be a god."

"I won't try to skirt around that. Ever since my parents died, ever since I ventured into neuroscience this has been my dream – the absolute best case scenario. Preserving mankind's free will while wiping out its capacity for ruin and giving it the tools to persist into the future. It's not about being a god as much as it is being a replacement for one."

"How is that any different from controlling people with fear?"

[Sighing.] "Because there _is no_ fear, Mion. No fear, no sadness. Everyone is born, builds themselves how they see fit, and then dies. There's no getting around that – wouldn't it be so much better if people could make it from start to finish without being _afraid_ of dying? Without being able to experience pain, or even loss? Without being able to feel _regret?_ "

"Why do I get the feeling there's a sermon incoming?"

"The world the way it is needs to be set aside. War torn, grief-stricken, overflowing with meaningless escapism. Genocide isn't the answer, divine providence doesn't exist, and social constructs are already too diverse for people to find any value in one or the other. All people care about is what _feels_ good, to them, on a level that no one can teach them, in a part of them that's so deeply encoded into their brains that everything else simply builds on top of it.

"We don't have to change the color of anyone's skin, or the language they speak, or even the gods they believe in – all that will change naturally. Transform the whole world on that level, eliminate the seven sins from everyone's hearts, and we end up with peace in our time. It's not a social construct – it's a neural one, one that'll persist from one generation to the next."

"How can you be this sure about something that's never even been attempted before?"

"Hinamizawa is our primordial soup. What remains after we blow away the old order will rebuild itself on our foundations. Even if the world where all realms of thought converge _won't_ become a utopia, it'll better than what we have now, and subsequent trials will always be possible. By now you have to have noticed it – even if we hadn't opened the flood gates, someone would have one day. This way, we're destroying Hinamizawa in a _controlled_ environment, where death is little more than a parameter. Either we stay in the loop of our double helix or we learn how to transcend it – this is what transcending looks like. This is what it _sounds_ like."

"Is that what we're all suffering for right now? Because of some delusion you have in your head?"

"You haven't given me a reason yet – for why what I'm doing is wrong."

"You really think it's going to proceed that smoothly? That everyone's suddenly going to forget what it means to hurt? Do you even have any proof that you aren't just going to kill everyone by changing them so much?"

" _This village_ is the proof. We've made you forget about so many people, so many things that would've otherwise destroyed this community long ago – we've put significant events in your heads and built this culture around them. We've given people different names, different histories, and they've adopted them perfectly. Hinamizawa may have a small population, but it's proof that we can successful impact volumes of people with high frequency."

"And you want to make the whole world like that? You're going to strap each and every person in a chair, force them through your fucked up therapy and see if shit sticks? Can't you see how fucking _ridiculous_ this sounds or are you too far gone already?"

"Of course it's not that simple. But the more we develop this method, the more so it becomes. Soon we'll be able to cause the seizures with pathogen, not just through injections or oral consumption. In five years, our neural network will have enough training data to ensure that individual psychological profiles won't even be needed. The conversion can already be performed on multiple people in the same room at once – before too long we will be able to perform it remotely. See, the thing is, as long as the 'god' I'm trying to make stays _real_ , there will never be a way to change the world we've created. Save, of course, for one thing."

"...Alright, then what the fuck am I here for?"

"For the sake of that one thing, of course. I need your bloodline."

"Come again?"

"Across all our samples, even the ones that were taken before I was born – no Sonozaki heiress past the age of twelve has ever produced symptoms worse than level four. While our procedure can be performed on level four patients, the conditioning is much more difficult to maintain. During your confinement we applied a drug that forces level five conditions. Based on what results we achieved from your sister -"

"My sister?!"

"Based on our results from her tests –"

[Scraping metal sounds.]

"No, you bastard – tell me where she is. Tell me what you did with my -"

"I don't know where she is now, if that's what you're driving at. I haven't seen her in at least a month, if not more than that."

"But why? Why the hell did you have to go after _her_? What could she have given you that I couldn't?!"

"If my theories on the matter are right, absolutely nothing. As I was saying, we've done extensive testing on the Sonozaki family – or rather its children. The same testing that was performed on you during your captivity was carried out on Shion as well. In your case, even if only briefly, your consciousness reverted to its clean state, where none of our alterations, even the ones applied to you as a child when one's myelin sheathes are too underdeveloped, took any effect. And then, responding to such a _simple_ stimulus, all alterations performed in that particular test were systematically undone. In Shion's case, we successfully applied the level five conditions, but could not perform any alterations whatsoever."

"You mean… She's locked away somewhere all alone, kicking and screaming…?"

"Compared with the results of the other children, it's clear that the incident that ties us all together did not cause this – no, instead this is a characteristic expressed only by the two of you."

"Answer my question – and what other children? What the hell did you _do?!_ "

"I don't have any obligations to tell you anything. Surely you've realized that by now – you are here to be incorporated into our training data, and nothing more. Furthermore, though it won't come until after your data has been implemented, we're prepare to perform similar tests on your children."

"M-My children?"

"This is a completely unique factor, unexpressed in any other test we've ever performed. We have to determine if it's hereditary. Three samples should do, each with a different set of chromosomes from three different types of fathers. Though, if we get particularly unlucky with the crossover we may need five or six, but you're still young enough –"

"I'd rather die."

"Don't give me that. I know you, Mion – you're sure as hell not going to off yourself without knowing if your sister's safe or not. And we've already proven she can no longer have children in her state, so there's no other –"

"Ah-"

"Oh, damn, I probably shouldn't have said anything about that, huh?"

"You'd better make sure I don't get up."

"Yes, yes, we'll think about letting you walk around after your first delivery. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, alright?"

[End of tape.]

 _Tape 3 (est June 11_ _th_ _, 1984)_

[Two minutes of static, sudden shouts.]

"Don't give me that face. It's not like that was your first time with him. I know he's no Maebara-kun, but bear with him for the time being. He's not in much higher spirits than you are right now."

"Ah, what, now we aren't on speaking terms anymore? Look at the bright side – you won't have to worry about doing this with _me_ until after your first child is born. You'll barely feel a thing after that point, or so I've been told. And here I was going to tell you about what was happening above ground… Hm? Are you not even resisting anymore?

[Clanging, cloth tearing.]

"Hm, and after all that fuss you put up. How disappointing. Get back here, she's good for another round."

[Static, fifteen seconds.]

"Well, I haven't had much interaction with anyone from the outside, and it's not like you're terribly engaged at the moment so I'll tell you anyway."

[Sporadic wet sounds and scraping against metal.]

[Static, ten seconds.]

"As you'd imagine, most of them were rioters from Mahamatsuri. It seems certain that Natsumi-chan was the one that killed them all – I must say I'm proud of that particular experiment. We haven't done anything with muscle memory or physical trauma since, and though the process _did_ have its side effects on her libido, the data having come from the sort of person it came from, most of them can be resolved in a controlled environment. And, of course, as you're very much aware, there's nothing we added that wasn't there already.

"But what's curious to me is how the authorities were _so convinced_ they could finally put a rest to the Powers That Be – yet, there's not a trace of any of them. Only one thousand homeless villagers, each one as unrelated to that holy circle as possible. I heard the remnants of your family have been taking refuge at the Blue Mermaid in the city – I'm sure the rest of the village will follow, since there's no way relocation will take them anywhere else. Things will proceed as we planned on that level – your family is the only one with any influence anymore, and once we have our stake in it we can continue into our second phase.

"Speaking of, I heard your mother is with child already. It seems as though your uncle has done well in solidifying his place in the family – with the two of you presumed dead, the succession will pass to their child, which in turn will elevate him from bastard status. Should that child die, and the mother held responsible, he will have both the blood right and the established position in the family to seize control. It's a rather happy ending, all things considered.

"I can't say the same about your friends, however. Rika-chan's body naturally was never recovered from the fire, though on the bright side I believe Satoko-chan managed to take refuge in Okinomiya with some relatives – her aunt and uncle, to my recollection. Ah, but you want to hear about Natsumi-chan and Maebara-kun, right?"

[Sudden gasping for air. Sporadic wet sounds and scraping against metal stop.]

"Oh, you're finished already? I was just getting to the good part, too. Go on, get yourself hard again like I showed you – we've ample time today, apparently."

[Footsteps across a metallic surface. Various grunts, continues for sixty seconds.]

"Still nothing, eh? Come over here, then."

[Footsteps, followed by violent tearing of cloth.]

"Now, then – no, no, not like _that_ , you're useless in there if you can't get it up. Take your hands, and go like _this_."

[Slight gasp.]

"See? Not quite like yours, are they? It's like fruit – ah, there, now you've got it, see? She's starting to like it herself. Now, you already know what it's like inside her. You've already stolen the light from her eyes – but she isn't yours, not just yet."

[Cloth tearing.]

"Ah, there we go, you're learning quickly – no, not just that, the footwear too. There, you've got it – see? That wasn't so difficult, was it? It doesn't matter who, in all men, part of the hippocampus is devoted to this feeling, to the madness of seeing a good woman bare and broken, though I suppose it would've been stronger if she still had hair. It's such a powerful stimulus you just might fall in love with her." [Short laughter.] "It's a rather disgusting thing, but for now it'll have to do. Now, then, continue, any which way you like, just as long as everything goes where we discussed."

[Continued noises, see above notation.]

"As I was saying, Natsumi-chan was recovered from the wreckage of the tower, though not all in one piece. Her lower jaw was missing and all of her teeth seemed to have been removed by hand. It wasn't a pretty sight – the photos cost me my breakfast, in fact. As for Maebara-kun, I honestly haven't the slightest clue. If it turns out he's alive, and you cooperate like this from here on out, I might be able to arrange for him to father your third."

[Loud groaning.]

"Already, huh? Wait – where's that blood coming from? You didn't pick the wrong hole, right? Can the other holes even bleed like that? N-No way, did I have him pick the wrong one to begin with?" [Deep sighing.] "Ah, I see, the vein again. Alright, we're done for today, go next door and get that checked out – oh, wonderful, look at how much got out! Alright, actually _remember_ this time, _every time_ you finish, _always_ collect _everything_ that comes out in the jar, you understand? Good, now go."

[Footsteps, followed by door slamming.]

"And here I thought a younger subject would be better for this – oh well, it can't be helped. We'll take care of your clothing situation in awhile. I'll see if he's up for more later first – "

"Tell me who I am."

"…Come again?"

"Tell me who I am."

"You're Mion, of course."

"Prove it."

"Is that something you really need _me_ to prove?"

"Is that who I am? Or is that just someone you've turned me into?"

"Hm… No, this will be up to you – to decide who or what you are. Your answer ought to be valuable."

"I…"

[End of tape.]

* * *

 _TIP IV : Recollection of the 1970s' Wild Hunt_

The truth buried by the Cleansing exists only in the memory of those that resist the Bastard Curse.

The common folk of Hinamizawa have come to forgotten them in their entirety, but there was once a fourth ruling family – the Ryuugu clan, a wealthy family that had taken root in Hinamizawa only three generations prior. The Ryuugu family was a family of surgeons and physicians and did much to establish Hinamizawa's acclaimed clinic and at one time sustained powerful connections with pharmaceutical companies across the country. Each year their operations proved more lucrative than the ones before and before too long they were wealthy enough to be granted administrative privileges by the Powers That Be. The Ryuugu family was driven by progress and with the lack of government regulation on their practices within Hinamizawa's wall from both Japanese government and the Powers That Be, they carried out many high profile experiments and produced results that helped many soldiers during World War II recover both physically and psychologically.

It was Soichiro Ryuugu, who would ultimately be the last head of the family, that discovered the first traces of Hinamizawa's Bastard Curse after epileptic episodes that afflicted nearly every single child at Hinamizawa's school house on the day of a large earthquake, and through collaboration with a doctor that had married into the Furude family and the promising neuroscientist that would one day inherit his clinic, stopped the village from descending into chaos completely.

The Ryuugu family had a healthy relationship with the Furude family, but had no such relation with the Sonozaki or Kimiyoshi families, which did not trust science as much as they did the faith. The Sonozaki family further despised the Ryuugu family for assisting the Japanese government in dissolving many of their contacts with the yakuza that had control over supply lines, which at the time was still the main source of the Sonozaki family's influence.

The Kimiyoshi family at the time was caught in a vicious cycle of internal conflict. The main branch of the Kimiyoshi family quarreled over philosophical differences regarding their law enforcement. Headed at the time by Biba Kimiyoshi, who emphasized controlling the population through extorting their funds through mountains of fines and taxes, the Kimiyoshi family had built a small fortune, having also dealt with shady figures of all sorts in its mission to embezzle and launder money from all over, including partners of the Ryuugu family. His lesser brother, Kiichiro Kimiyoshi, believed that swift and violent justice was the only thing that would suffice and that money was too material and simply irrelevant, only capable of driving people towards protest rather than fearful obedience. Finally there was Toji Kimiyoshi, the son of their late uncle, who was ally the strongest of all three but after years of silencing Biba's enemies found that violence was a disease and that maintaining respect through harsh discipline would only ever breed more violence.

Upon Biba's death or abandoning of his title, the seat of power would be passed to Kiichiro. However, he did not have the love of his family or the Powers That Be – only Toji, his first cousin, did, and even were he to inherit his position the chance of internal conflict was very high. As he became older, Biba's decisions held less and less coherency. He was unable to father a child with his wife and the two subsequently split up, which deteriorated the situation even further.

During this time, Toji fell in love with the first daughter of the Ryuugu family. Shortly after her father's death, it did not take much work for him to secure her hand in marriage.

Meanwhile, Kiichiro's obsession with power and his outrage towards how his brother used it led to Biba being killed in his sleep. While Kiichiro tried to cover the murder up, Toji saw through his lies, but when the Powers That Be accepted Kiichiro's request to succeed his brother as the head of the family, Toji refused to accept the demands of a Kimiyoshi family with him at the helm and not only married into the Ryuugu family but took their name as his own, with his first daughter Reina set to become the next head of the family when she was of age. Furthermore, upon Biba's death, much of the Kimiyoshi fortune was divided amongst myriad parties due to a stipulation in his will that Kiichiro had been unaware of when he ordered the assassination. What was left to him was not enough to assert any kind of dominance over anyone else, and so the same money he once mocked came to ruin him.

Shortly after that, Kiichiro was faced with the greatest trial the Kimiyoshi family had ever faced – the Ryuugu family, no longer needing to merely guess at the Kimiyoshi family's corruption, sought to undermine his authority by protecting those he tried to prosecute, and upon reaching out to the Powers That Be to maintain the village's law enforcement as he no longer could, he received no reply. The Ryuugu family caught wind of this and continued their activist behavior, going out of their way to spend a portion of their fortune to protect the many that had lost much of their money to the Kimiyoshi family in the past and continued to suffer for it.

Kiichiro took what money he managed to hold onto after Biba's death and forged a pact with the Sonozaki family to destroy Ryuugu entirely. They hired at least fifteen assassins and allocated the rest towards gathering information and buying people's silence.

Toji, having caught wind of the plan from a Kimiyoshi family member who was later hung in secret for alleged treason, tried to appeal to the Powers That Be but was ignored. The Ryuugu family had no fighting force, and the Furude family was unable to uncover the murder squad that was supposedly being built. In the end his wife and five year old daughter fled the village while he stayed behind as part of a defensive measure to ensure the family would ultimately survive no matter what action was taken. In the end he went into hiding as well, though in such a way that not even his closest friends were able to find him.

Over the span of three years many of the mercenaries hired to protect the key Ryuugu clan members were bought out by the Sonozaki family and the assassins employed by the Kimiyoshi family murdered countless doctors in their sleep. With the Ryuugu family unable to operate normally, distribution of pharmaceuticals was managed by the Sonozaki family, which threatened the doctors that had originally stopped the spread of the Bastard Curse into developing a drug capable of erasing selective memories completely in order to maintain the order.

Toji's immediate family resurfaced one day, and his daughter along with his wife's head were presented to Kiichiro as trophies. In the aftermath, the funds retained by the Ryuugu family that still existed were robbed by the Kimiyoshi and Sonozaki families. While the Sonozaki family would one day use that money to improve conditions in the village after the Dam War, the Kimiyoshi family did no such thing. Furthermore, the heir to the Ryuugu family was passed around the core group of conspirators as a reward and eventually made to be forgotten as well.

Toji Kimiyoshi was never found, though it was assumed at the start of the decade that he was dead.

The destruction of the Ryuugu family neutered Hinamizawa's medical plan and since then many have suffered and died due to inaccessible medication, and the clinic that remained, while carrying on the research of its last true owner, most certainly did not carry on his will.

* * *

 _TIP V : Suicide Note Recovered From the Furude Tower Conflagration_

For all that's happened, for all that I've had a hand in, no matter who was hurt in the process, I have no regrets. Even if only for a time the pain that our home has rooted in the very foundations of our little world will be a distant memory. There will be heartache, and there will be phantoms of things that both were and will ultimately never be again. But we must take it all if we are to survive the churning tempest that lies ahead.

Instead what haunts me is that which I failed to do. Things that needed to be said that weren't, things that had to be done that I simply lacked the strength to do.

Okinawa changed everything. And though what we did was equivalent to the opening of pandora's box there is nothing to regret. Our world, one where thought and action are regulated down to the slightest twitch, where every emotion is founded on expectations and conditioning is one that simply cannot be allowed to continue. Hinamizawa's Bastard Curse, our darkest of secrets, is not an anomaly of the human mind – in fact it is quite the opposite. It is a natural state of being. The truth that our suffocating world tries so hard to hide away.

Those who bear the eyes of the accursed bear the true eyes of mankind. Those that have the Chemtrail Sight, that can see between the lines, and only those, can see the truth of our world. To expose that truth for others – to control who sees it and who doesn't is to become god.

Yet I could never truly accept that in my heart. For though I hated that world so, I was undoubtedly a part of it. Part of the endless cycle, a collection of junk data and misshapen contexts just like all those around me. I did not believe in the truth I had reached, nor that I could ever transcend the world I already knew with such a truth, and that was why we failed. That was why so much was lost.

When I saw the so called Goro Majima with my own eyes that night on the Sonozaki estate, I knew immediately. I knew who he was and what had been done to him. He'd sworn to me that he'd never invest in that darkest of neurosciences after the children, yet here was a man that had been put through worse therapy than anyone we'd ever worked on before. The only thing that hadn't been drastically warped was the look in his eyes – and, of course, the anxious, nearly delirious need to find the child that was lost.

I should have assumed from the start that Doctor Kyosuke would have continued the work, no matter how many times he swore to me that he wouldn't. I should have assumed that his heart was still warped by the prospect of changing the world for the better. And now he's even used my own Cleansing against me – I no longer possess the power to stop him. Only the children can do that now. But once he harvests Mion's data, there might not be a means of stopping the Bastard Curse from becoming an airborne disease.

After Reina kills Hinoka and our bloodline is wiped from the earth, they will surely name 'Majima' the next Pontiff. I will have no part in that establishment – there is no meaning in a village that is not Hinoka's. No meaning in a Hinamizawa where the true meaning behind the old words is lost forever.

I should have killed him a long time ago – no, I should have killed both of them long ago.

But even that isn't my deepest regret.

I wanted to show her – I wanted to show Rika something that was worth believing in. Something that would help her find some value not in her senseless games but in the world around her. Now I have seen it – the truth of our world, the shackles of the double helix, the most inescapable of cycles, with the eyes of the accursed. I've seen the world through the same eyes she has. I have seen the terror, the pain of ages looming over all creation. Even if she has indeed found the death she wanted, there was never a point where she valued anything other than herself, for all her life she could never see anything else.

Those that come to love only themselves go hollow. I should have tried to sustain that world she drew herself into _with_ her, instead of letting her drift away alone in its confines.

For my daughter that is no longer with us, and for all those I have wronged over the course of my life, I cannot feel the kind of sorrow any of you would want me to. I don't have the same ability to love that all of you most certainly had, or at the very least was unable to retain it.

All that I will leave behind is this simple truth –

Let the world be.

* * *

 _There was a TIP Here. It's gone now._

* * *

 _TIP VI : What a horrible dream._

During an age long ago, Japan was unformed, where the world was large indeed and its foundations were shrouded in as much mystery as the edge of the horizon. And even then was certain – just how fragile and insignificant life truly was. How without a sense of self, no matter how base in its desires, there was no difference between man and beast.

But man had also discovered violence, and with it murder. What little semblance of self there _was_ could be so easily stripped away with a crack of bone. One could build and build, but everything could easily tumble down as easily as a child tearing down a tower of blocks. How then, was man any different from a beast?

All man could do was continue to build and build it did, to protect the idea of self – to preserve what little it had and, ultimately, to escape from the nightmare which it had been born from.

It was out of this animalistic need for a truth that did not exist that they came, from the depths of the truly vast darkness that was humanity's primordial soup, from the heavenly entities above, and from the very minds of those that chose to believe in that which had no basis. That which was no man, of many names and forms came to be.

Tamurahime, the queen of the calm and war-torn skies, who brought with her the balance to all things and light to all truth and reason. Iwaihime, the eternally formless queen of the deep, her equal and opposite, presiding over the untamable sea, bulwark to all truth and reason. Bōkyakuhime, queen of the abyss, the crawling chaos rooted in the hearts of all those that wished death upon others and themselves. And the benevolent Orihime, queen of the bountiful land, mother to both man and beast, dwelling in the bone and sinew of all humanity, that provided life with the power to protect and preserve itself and sang sweet words of love to all of creation.

For the primordial man, every queen was a basis from which all facets of man, both inherently good and irredeemably evil, took shape. Religion was born, but not as a basis but rather as a surrogate – a surrogate for the sense of purpose and meaning that humanity had convinced itself had once existed but was lost. With religion that which could not be understood could be provided an explanation. Man provided itself a creator that gave it purpose and meaning, so that in a world of beasts man could somehow be something more. So that there would be a meaning to cognitive thought – a meaning to anything other than the construction and deconstruction of life.

And in Japan, a sealed off land brimming with beasts, the gods were many and man so very few. Man drowned itself in faith, and from faith came purpose and ideals. And as time went on, these became the foundations for civilization itself.

And for every queen, civilization was a surrogate as well, for they too were born from the same nightmare. There was always an equal balance, of light and dark, of good and evil, of ignorance and reason, kept in place by these queens of all mankind. The four of them in harmony were deified in ways that no other gods could.

But one day it came to pass that all four were eternally forgotten. For mankind had forgotten the truth of its very nature, and in the world that followed the queens were not needed, only the ideas they represented, passed down from one generation to the next. And in a world where false truths were always being built, modified, and above all else _reinterpreted_ to suit the ever evolving concept of self, the balance was at long last destroyed.

The evolution of humanity was in truth a war amongst these queens, driven to arms out of the madness that came from truly losing their surrogates.

Tamurahime with legions of shintoist deities at her disposal rained fiery brimstone down from her throne in the upper reaches of Takama-ga-hara, causing volcanic eruptions and polar events. Iwaihime's six eldritch legions rose from the far reaches of time and space and swarmed the gates of Tamurahime's heavenly city through the mountaintops, causing avalanches and rock slides. Bōkyakuhime, having lived directly amongst the humans and enraged by the loss of her surrogate more than any other, opened the gates of hell and forged mighty blades from the forces of nature, burning forests and creating massive fissures in the earth. Orihime's Wild Dog Nebiros, the king of beasts, clashed with her armor-clad oni that wielded those weapons in the rice fields, razing farmland for miles and miles, causing famine and death in their wake.

In the end, Takama-ga-hara was naught but a ruin, and Tamurahime was cleaved in two, half of her lost to the depths of the sea for all time, the other struggling to stay above the waves, never to fly again. Orihime, her beast slain, was gouged repeatedly by Bōkyakuhime's hell-forged Onigari no Ryuou. Showering the shores of Honshu in her blood and tainted with the essence of her slayer, she birthed horned monstrosities, neither man nor beast, before vanishing into the waves for all time, never to sing again. Bōkyakuhime slew the six legions, but the violence unable to fill the gaping hole in her heart the loss of her surrogate had created, she descended into the bottomless sea, wrought with grief, never to be seen again.

The world we live in today is one dominated by the formless Iwaihime, where there is no longer a balance of any kind – only the ever changing tides of law and chaos and the swirling current of fact and fiction. And only beneath the waves can one find what remains of the old world and the old, forgotten queens that still dwell in its darkest depths.

It is possible, though only through sorcery or death, for one to travel to the depths of that bottomless sea. But to return from it, after coming to understand its truth, put simply, can only happen in the wildest of dreams.

* * *

 _Even now the truth sinks deeper and deeper into the vacuous sea, and before too long the true resolution to this disaster will be lost to its depths forever._

 _A trail has been left behind that extends past these old words. Look everywhere. Leave no stone unturned, no matter how unrelated it may seem. Silence the beast's harrowing cry and reveal the Bastard's Curse for what it truly is. Speak this farce's true name, declare it for all to hear – then, and only then, will the path to the ocean floor open and the expedition begin._


	9. Letter Numbers

_Redacted Tip #_ _1_ _– In This World of Closed Time_

When their voices and feelings were at last in harmony, when the true power in the squalid village had at long last resolved to take action, to address the world around them for the very first time, in the end not a solitary thing mattered. For time devours all things, but its appetite for the truth has no bounds.

 _For the sake of the next world, we burn away the one that already had its chance._ For the sake of something new, perhaps something better, the old is cast into the fire and the new sprouts from the soil, christened with its ashes. Life was merely a grace period for passing on something, virtually _anything_ , to the next generation – and in a world drowning in meaningless tripe, where relationships were superfluous and knowledge was doomed to be carelessly reinterpreted for all time, all that could be passed on was this concept of death and rebirth.

The point of no return had been reached centuries before. Whatever came next would always be worse than what came before it, learning nothing from past transgressions and only from success. Each generation would bring with it a stronger craving for sweeping results, for ends with simple, inconsequential means. Thus the only way forward, the only way to save the world, was to destroy it all and begin anew. And the only force in the world that had the power to do so in all the world was fire.

Fire was the cornerstone of all the world's evil – at the root of all mankind, that which ensured billions would suffer and die in the endless loop of generations. And what fire once gave, it could just as easily take away. That was the foundation of the Cleansing – the dark secret of the Furude clan, buried under decades of revisionist history and social upheaval, hidden away from the Oyashiro faith as a relic from the days of the Catholic supremacy. It was the duty of the head of the family to ensure that it survive the times, even should the day it be enacted would never come.

However, as it turned out, that duty was founded on a whole bundle of falsehoods of its own.

When Rika was six years old, she stumbled upon the concept for the first time in her obsession with crafting bizarre decorations based off of things she read. One of her many trips into the family crypt beneath the tower, she stumbled upon a box of scrolls hidden under a floor tile, mere moments after finding herself bored enough to start searching for hidden passages. Naturally she didn't understand a word of it at the time, and so as most children with working heads on their shoulders did, she deferred to her parents, which in this case meant sneaking into her mother's chamber late at night when all the monks were asleep.

Hinoka Furude was not the first of her name, and most certainly would not be the last. She was the sort of woman that always listened to her child, but was not much for providing answers. This day was a curious exception, and for reasons that Rika would not understand until much later in life.

"Sweet child," she said, "all that matters is what happens within these walls. The wall was built to keep us safe. The world outside is nothing but swampland – nothing but beasts roam that land as far as the eye can see."

"But that can't be true. Tomitake-san came from another city. He said so himself. And those people on the other side – they're from other places too, I know they are."

"The world was like that once a very long time ago," she said softly. "Cities and towns and villages, all dotting the world, each just as dignified as our own. But all that was lost for the sake of everyone in here the world must always seem that way. But we must always know the truth - it's our duty as the women of the Furude clan to preserve that illusion for as long as possible, however we can. That includes taking advantage of other people."

"But why do we have to lie to everyone?"

"Our village closed itself off from the outside long ago for the sake of hope. Without hope, the people of this land will shrivel up and die. But hope is very much like life in that it won't last forever. And one day, when that hope does die, we'll wipe everything away and start over from the very beginning. Then one day, those cities and towns will sprout up again. And perhaps again many years after that."

"Start over – from what?"

"That's not for us to decide. That's for the world to decide."

"But I don't want to die."

"Everyone dies eventually, but few get to choose for themselves when that time comes. And even fewer die painlessly. Now ask yourself this – is it worth it to live in a world where everything around you is wasting away?"

"I don't know what that world is like."

"It's a world where there's no such thing as family, or friends – it's a world where all is merely food for beasts, where you either become a beast yourself or are eaten without care. It doesn't matter who anyone is, or what anyone thinks. People live on by cowering in packs that can be broken up at any time, set upon by paranoia and eventually tearing themselves apart all on their own. Do you want to live in a world like that?"

"But isn't there any way to change it? Without having to die?"

Her mother shook her head. "I promise you it won't hurt. It'll be quicker than falling asleep." She smiled at her reassuringly.

Rika would ultimately never know, but that smile was merely a reflection of the same one Hinoka's mother had given her, which in turn was her mother's before her. It was a smile that didn't mean anything – the words shared meant nothing either. After all, each generation assumed that the day would never come – that the end of the world would always be another generation away, that the burden wouldn't fall on them or their children, or even their children's children. The Furude clan was by no means hanging on by a thread – the world they lived in was sturdy and unmoving, maintaining the same hypocrisy throughout the years, and all those that questioned it were dealt with accordingly.

For Rika, who ultimately knew nothing, those words were poison. Poison that spread all through her and poured from her eyes as tears. She could not live a lie – she _would_ not live a lie, or so she told herself again and again. But her lie was just a small part of an even bigger one. Already the true meaning had been lost, already the history had been revised. And not for the sake of the world that could be, but for the sake of the world that already was, the next generation would rot all the same. Her parents had chosen to rot, and their parents before them – and so one day she would as well, even if she never realized it until the day she died.

When she was seven she at last ventured into Hinamizawa's public school, where children far more oblivious to the world than she was laughed and played. And she couldn't so much as speak to them – to speak to another child that didn't see the world the way she did was to cut into her own flesh.

But before too long, she was given a circle of friends, all tailored to her down to the last detail – all members of other families, plucked from their own barely formed lives, rewritten and revised to adore her by her father's cursed practice. They did everything together, and through their obsession drew others naturally to her. And though at first she brooded and considered all manners of atrocities, for the first time in her life she could smile on call. And she smiled often, and brilliantly, and before too long her mother's words had faded away, and the world within the walls had become the only world that mattered.

But one day those friends all vanished, taken to the world of beasts beyond the wall and never returned. And suddenly the world within the walls turned against her. Ostracized by those her age, avoided like a plague. Whenever she walked into a room the other children would fall silent. At first she would glance towards her teacher for help, but it became evident early on that there was not a thing she could do. She wasn't bullied or made fun of, she wasn't teased or even beaten – she was feared, and that fear had cut into her deeper than any blade ever could. She wanted someone to acknowledge her – anyone, even if just once, even if it was just to spit in her face.

Takumi Furude, who essentially lived in the Ryuugu clinic, rarely if ever saw his daughter. But he loved her all the same, and she knew he did. And so she ran to him one day and begged him.

"I don't want this. I don't want to feel like this anymore." She cried expectantly, tugging on his pant leg. "Please, put everything back the way it used to be. I don't care how phony it is, I don't want to be alone anymore…!"

Takumi would always smile at her, and reassure her with his dopey, cheery attitude. Before her life had changed he was the only one in the world that had ever made her smile. But on that day, that man did not exist. Instead there was only an adult, an adult with no heart or soul that could be seen.

"There's nothing that can be done." He said.

And she was stunned. "But you changed so many people already! Why can't you do this for me?!"

"I can't. It's too dangerous."

"Too _dangerous?_ Why didn't you think about that in the first place?!" She smacked him several times, each with more force than the last. "Why? Why would you show me something so beautiful and take it away like that?"

"Rika, I didn't -"

"You can't lie to me – I know you took everyone away, I heard them talking, all of them talking about it over and over – they hate you just as much as me!"

He didn't answer. All he could manage was to stare at his desk as though he were working.

"Take this away from me, then. Just me."

He couldn't look away from her when she said that.

"It doesn't matter if anything bad happens to me, right? Then make _me_ forget what this feels like. Let me go back to how I used to -"

Without warning he struck at her, straight across her face with the palm of his hand. Takumi was a weak man so it wasn't painful – but it stung all the same.

"Never say a thing like that ever again." He grumbles, a very dangerous glint in his eyes.

The moment the tears started to fall from her eyes he wanted to take it all back. But it was far too late for that.

But she wouldn't bawl and moan like an infant. She was far past that. She'd been thinking too hard, too long, and without getting anywhere, pushing her capacity to its limits. In that moment, the moment he'd forsaken her and betrayed what little, childlike trust was there, she could have killed him.

"So that's the kind of father you are?"

"No, that isn't -"

"That's _exactly_ what you are! You can't lie to me, _no one_ can lie to me – "

"Rika, I made a mistake, this isn't what I wanted to -"

"You're not a doctor. You'd barely pass as a farm hand. You're just a coward."

Something important shattered that day. Something that in its absence was replaced with a burning hatred. She decided one day that she would make people look at her, even if she had to turn their heads with her own hands.

It started when she was ten years old. She would storm the lunch tables and strong-arm her way into the games the other children were playing. She tried all sorts of mannerisms to bring down the walls of her peers and ultimately settled on the sweet catlike girl that adults wouldn't even think to question. After school was over she'd steal one of the quiet boys and go out on a date with them, during which she dragged them around the village in their terror and played to their insecurities, sending some off with a fresh stain in their pants.

At one point she managed to work her way into the graces of the heiress to the Sonozaki family, and became the darling of another closely knit group. She'd begun to see the nature of all those around her – uncertain souls, fragile like glass, that enjoyed lies far more than the truth. And they were all the same – and she was the only one that was not.

And when that failed to satisfy her, when the bonds with her friends were never any stronger than the ones that had fallen to pieces long ago, she retreated further into herself. She would not simply live a lie – instead she would transcend the lie and do with it as she pleased. Each night she would break into homes and leave notes staked to the bedroom doors with daggers, her very own calling cards. _The Powers That Be are watching you,_ they'd say. She targeted families that she knew had secrets. And she knew everyone's secrets – the benefits of being ignored. And she would watch those families carefully, and reveled in how they slowly fell apart as their secrets came undone.

That world where time for her was stopped went on and on, as did she, on and on tearing lives apart and marveling at just how little everything managed to change. And not once did anyone try to stop her – instead, the lie became her plaything, and the village danced in the palm of her hand. The Powers That Be – a simple farce that became the 'hidden truth' of Hinamizawa. Whether or not another force had intervened to make that possible mattered little.

Then at last the fire came, as it was promised.

The White Rider, heir to the ashes of the Sonozaki family. In the world of beasts he was a powerful demon disguised as an angel, with powers and principalities that flocked to his side. But in her world, he was the rising action, and he came to her from some far off sky, all for the sake of his revenge.

Even if she enjoyed it, even if she had felt greater purpose in her grand deception than in anything else she'd ever done in her life, she still believed in the one speck of truth she'd managed to find as she walked the earth.

"I'm interested in Goro Majima..." She cleared her throat. "I mean, Satoko and Natsumi's father, Toji Kimiyoshi. I haven't exactly kept track of who else he's fathered, but that should be more than enough for you to go on."

The white rider rolled his eyes and sighed, as he paced about the room. "What _about_ him?"

"He still has the loyalty of this people. The Ryuugu family was stricken from the annals of our history, but not well enough. He's a threat to both you and me."

" _Oh ho?_ I'm surprised there's even one person left over that remembers that name."

"While you live because of him, Doctor Kyosuke lives because of us. What he calls his Hinamizawa Syndrome is merely our Bastard's Curse as observed by an outsider."

"You might want to run that by him once more," the rider chuckled. "He seemed pretty high on his messiah complex the last we spoke." He turned away from her. "But, it's as you say." He continued hesitantly. "Toji Kimiyoshi, or Ryuugu or whatever, needs to be here regardless."

"And why is that?"

He turned back to face her, cocking his head to the side and flashing a toothy smile. "Now why would I tell you a thing like that?"

"Let's try to stay on point. I called you here because I need your help."

"Ah, _yes_. The outcast daughter of the ruling class. Hopelessly lost in the world of preadolescence and betrayed by her own father – what could such a tragic figure possibly want from some poof from the Sekiguchi family?"

"This village is ugly, isn't it?"

"I've admired my own vomit with greater passion, in fact."

"You see, I've been living here for a very long time. I'm rather sick of looking at it. Luckily, my family happens to house a protocol for just this situation."

"I see. So then, if I help you kill everyone in this village, what shall I get in return?"

"I will give you the pain of ages you're searching for."

But in the end, she was the only one that burned. Hinamizawa's hypocrisy would live on in that forbidden outside world. But perhaps it was better that way. Perhaps the world needed a new pack of lies to keep things interesting. It was a better catalyst than hope, at the very least.

All her life she'd dreamed of what the end would be like, of the pain she'd feel, of just how wrong her mother's estimations would really be. And just as often fantasized about the moment her life would finally end. But when the moment came she'd felt rather underwhelmed. This death was hardly as impressionable as her last. It just hurt a lot and made her scream.

But in a matter of moments it didn't matter how many times she'd died. After all, the fire was the one true thing in the world, and it burned away everything, including all the parts of her that were worth talking about.

The fire that claimed the life of Rika Furude was not some fantastic pyre that shone for all the heavens to see. It was, in fact, only slightly more impressive than a bonfire. And would hardly have been suitable to the young girl that adored it so much that she willingly gave up the lives of everyone around her to see it, provided that, from its deepest depths, the very same fire had not sent something back.

* * *

 _A Meeting of the Powers That Be_

Today's rather disturbing experience takes place in an unusually ordinary classroom, on an unusually ordinary day after classes where and all but ordinary group of friends is gathered at a group of desks pushed together, huddled around a deck of cards. The five of them together are some of the closest friends there are, even if only because of their similarity in age, and for them, ever so blissfully ignorant of the chaos and fallout just beyond the classroom door, their ongoing game was perhaps the only thing in the world that mattered.

First was the teacher's pet, Yuri, a bipolar boy with bowl cut hair dressed like a boy that had just walked out of an English boarding school, suspenders and all, with an appropriate love for Shelley and Christie to go with it. More comfortable with friends of the opposite gender, he has a colossal inferiority complex which will do wonders for him once he's older.

To his left was Miho, a tanned girl with bright blonde hair kept in a ponytail that always wore a loose t-shirt and shorts. Mischievous, bright, and already developing a tendency for chasing after boys older than she was, Miho was the focus point of the group, and at one point confessed her love to one of the four, though the other would never admit it or bring it up in public.

Across from her was Rimi, the jealous one, who always kept her hair the same way as Miho's, went after the same boys, and when possible wore the same clothes. She did not, however, want to go through the trouble of dying her hair, so she simply kept it her natural red color. Every aspect of her personality was fixed for the sole purpose of contesting Miho, and none of the four others had any clue what she was really like. On this particular day, as she conveyed herself most days, she was quiet and stern, but didn't hesitate to make her opinion known, no matter how juvenile it might've been.

Touching shoulders with her was Homu, who by now needs no introduction. She always took after the eldest of the group, and though she was often the sweetest girl one could encounter, her mood would sour often around her friends. It was merely a sign of her loyalty and trust.

And distanced quite a bit from the others was in fact the eldest, with long flowing hair, wearing a green sundress that had seen years of wear and tear. Unlike the others she often loses interest with the game, instead taking to staring out of a nearby window. Perhaps she could catch the next missile as it fell out of the sky, or maybe another flaming person would start running across the landscape just in front. Lazy and arrogant until the last moment possible, Rika was the sort of person that would be satisfied with burning a kingdom to the ground if she could be queen of the ashes.

Their game is rather simple. There was a maximum of seven players possible. The eldest, who was branded an Oracle, would deal the cards, spreading the deck evenly amongst the five. And on each turn, they were allowed to play as many cards as they wanted with no restrictions. Each card had a different meaning. Each card was an event, a person, or a symbol, with given properties that could not be changed. And whoever played a given card was that card's master – allowed to interpret the card however they wished – and from that moment onward, that card would be treated as such. A 'dead card' was scribbled on with a black sharpie by the eldest, an obscured card was similarly marked with a highlighter and placed facing down, to be revealed on a given turn. And at the end of each turn, the Oracle would read the cards and reveal the consequences of their moves.

In essence, their game was more like a story. A role-playing game, where the five of them played god, and either worked together or went at each other's throats. It was a game of control, of manipulation. A game of burning ants, and though the cards were always the same, it could always play out differently. Such was the boundlessness of one's imagination.

However, it was impossible to obtain more cards after the initial dealing. It was impossible to retract a card, or so much as touch it after it had been played unless the Oracle was involved. It was impossible to question another player's interpretation of a card, at least until the game was over. And, above all else, it was impossible to leave the game midway through. Though the act of playing was nearly mindless, these rules were immutable.

And now, at the end of yet another game, the five sit there largely unsatisfied with the outcome. Miho gathers all the cards spread out on the table and shuffles them. "That's that, I guess." She says with a disappointed sigh.

"What kind of ending was that?" Homu barks right away, after spending a good deal of the game in total silence.

"I didn't think it was that bad. It was pretty symbolic, actually." Yuri says matter-of-fact-ly.

"We nearly ran out of everyone right at the start this time! And all the codes were so easy! What gives?" Homu whines, squeezing Yuri's cheeks as hard as she could.

"Hey, you should be pinching Rika, not me!"

"Don't try to dump your suspicions on me. None of those ciphers were mine." Rika sighs.

"This _again?_ This is happening constantly now, something's definitely going on here." Rimi grumbles.

"So someone _else_ tried to crash our game? Like, someone not here right now? Who would do a thing like that?" Miho's eyes widen curiously.

"I can think of a few. But let's hear the conclusion to this one first."

"What were you expecting?" Rika shrugs. "The following morning, the majority of Hinamizawa's residents have survived the burning. Homeless and distraught, the long and arduous relocation process begins – the Japanese government attempts to take part and breaks down the residents into groups to be spread out across the country. However, the plan is devised on outdated records, with Hinamizawa's own census records being destroyed in the fire, and almost twice the number accounted for actually need to be relocated. And, due to the presence of Mahamatsuri beggars amongst the group that were once villagers and as such were included in the government's records, the exact number is obscured even further."

"So the villagers resist, and the government representative assigned to the relocation effort is murdered. Following that, the government washes its hands of the entire mess, and through negotiations with multiple parties including the Sonozaki family, Okinomiya is handed the entire population to resolve on their own in exchange for two-hundred million yen. That money is then poorly managed and soaked into three different projects, all of which end in failure, deliberate or otherwise. In the end, they have no choice but to ration a small chunk of land to provide housing for the villagers, on limited funds provided by the police department." Miho nods her head along with the story.

Rika doesn't correct a word. "And because of the amount of funding and the insufficient development time, the conditions of these homes border on uninhabitable. The villagers flood the city, scouring for jobs that don't exist, surviving on welfare from their Japanese citizenship. Okinomiya city government naturally advocates towards hiring Hinamizawa villagers, and in many cases the Sonozaki family strong-arms small businesses into firing existing employees to make room for them. In the end, culture and values are twisted and lost, forcing Hinamizawa's remnants cling to the symbols of the years lost in search of hope."

"And so the future doesn't change." Rimi concludes.

" _Booring_." Homu whines.

"If someone really wanted to screw with us, the least they could've done was change the outcome." Rika sighs once more.

"What about that boy with the flowers?" Homu inquires with her chin in her hands.

"Ooh, you mean Rika's boyfriend?" Miho's eyes glitter with mischief.

"That sounds like the most likely case. Come to think of it he was pretty vocal about getting revenge on us or whatever last time, right?" Yuri nods his head.

"Whatever the case, it _is_ true that these latest interventions aren't healthy. Maybe if you burned your stupid book we wouldn't have to deal with this sort of thing." Rimi glares at Rika.

"I have a strict policy on all my artifacts. The rest of you meanwhile probably don't know what the word strict even means." Naturally, she doesn't give her an edge over her whatsoever.

"Right, the siderite. But if we got rid of it all, wouldn't everything be too one-sided?" Miho cuts in while still eying the two, as amused by the friction between the two as always.

"Toji Ryuugu's axe makes things far too easy. The man himself didn't have to act in any particular matter, when the movement towards Kanbei's death is carried out entirely by Keiichi."

"Wasn't the point of taking his memories away so he _couldn't_ have such a huge influence? If we just let him do whatever the chances of getting a different outcome would slip even further away."

"Aside from being suboptimal, allowing Keiichi that much control when we're just going to kill him anyway is just poor storytelling."

"Hey, didn't I just get finished saying that it was symbolic?"

"Who _cares_ about symbolism? Go read a book if you're so into that kind of thing."

"Hey, I could, you know! I could get up and leave right now!"

"Forget about the ending – what the hell was that nonsense that happened in the poker game? Rika, you played those two, didn't you?" Miho complains.

" _Of course_ she did. She _always_ gets those four, every time -"

"Say, Keiichi-san's death was pretty cool, wasn't it?" But Rimi's comment went entirely ignored as Yuri suddenly came forth with another random thought.

"Ahh, he was so dreamy, wasn't he?" Homu's glazed eyes wander off.

"He's had better ones before. It's not really easy to feel sorry for him in this one."

"At least Tomita-kun got what he deserved."

"Hey, wouldn't you have ended up doing the same thing?"

"Yeah, it's just too sad! I wanted to give him a hug. Then he got squashed by a tree." Homu furrowed her eyebrows.

"Let's all just shut up for a minute, alright?" Rika raises her voice for the first time that day, bringing the whole room into a stunned silence. "Before we completely forget what we were talking about, let's focus on this legitimate issue here. Fact of the matter is, someone's figured out how to subvert the technicalities of this game. If we let them go about on their own entirely unaddressed, there won't be a point to playing for much longer."

"Maybe we should just make some new cards. I found some construction paper in the hall closet the other day." Homu's first thought flies off her tongue at record speeds.

"N-No way, we can't do a thing like that! The boss man would get so angry -" Yuri shoots down the idea immediately.

"Who cares? This is _our_ game, isn't it? Why can't we play it the way we want to?" Homu pouts. She's already aware of the answer to her own question, but in her mind the answer is no good unless someone recites it for her out loud.

"You say that now but don't you remember what happened last time?" Yuri panics.

"Actually, he has a point. I'm not going another month without any internet. Lord knows I'm gonna need it when Rika graduates and there isn't anyone left to shut these two up." Miho agrees.

"You guys are just scared of everything. Hey, Rika, you get what I'm saying, right?" Homu turns to her role model expectantly.

"I have another idea in mind altogether."

" _Ooh_ , this should be good."

"We play ourselves. This way if someone tries to get in the way, we can intervene directly. Doesn't break any rules, and we can get to the bottom of this before the week is out. And I somehow doubt, if the culprit is who we think it is, that they'll think much of the lack of deviation."

"That sounds really childish. And dangerous." Homu's reply comes almost right away.

"Yeah, come on, we're a bit older than _that_ , don't you think?" Yuri agrees, glancing over at the long since ignored pile of cards on the far side of their makeshift table. "Putting ourselves in like we're superheroes – what nonsense. We shouldn't have asked for those cards in the first place."

"That's not how it was back when we had daycare." Miho snickers. "What did you call yourself back then?"

"Hey, hey, I have _no_ idea what you're talking about!" Yuri shot back.

"If you don't want to play this game, I'll find newer friends that will." Rika does what she can to break up the endless banter.

"Oh yeah, _that's_ real mature." Miho moans, though she isn't the least bit serious about it.

"D-Do we really mean so little to you?" Yuri's emotions flail about once more. "I mean, I know Rimi isn't very nice but you can't group the rest of us with her!"

"Hey, it's okay, Rika's just being grouchy," Homu tries to console him.

"Oh, _enough_ of this." Rimi grumbles, while nodding affirmatively. "I'll play. Leave this flower boy to me. I can smoke out this one on my own."

"It won't be that simple. At the very least we have to assume he'll know that we're coming." Rika shakes her head.

"He won't see me. I'll bet anything on it." At that moment, Rimi's eyes meet Rika's, burning with resolution.

Rika grins. "Before you say another word, remember I'll hold you to that, and one way or another I'll take what I'm due."

Her reply comes crisp and fierce. "As long as you're willing to bet the same."

"Oh? So is _this_ your plan to finally kill me? To stake everything on a flaming amaranth in the hopes that it won't scorch you instead?"

"Are you going to accept, or are we finished here?"

For a moment Rika's small grin nearly explodes into a toothy smile, but she holds herself back. "I'll accept your terms. Sorry a fool as you may be, the idea of doing with you as I please is too appealing to pass up." She leans across the desks, their faces nearly touching. "Take care not to bore me. I could easily just turn you into a mouse and be done with it." In that moment, Rimi's hands swing up towards her throat, but she stops herself halfway. "Good, that's good, don't forget for even a second that a fight on my terms is one you'll never win."

"Hey, you guys are scaring me." Homu speaks, barely above a whisper. She and Yuri are stunned, while Miho continues to look on knowingly.

Her voice pulls Rimi back to reality. She backs away and shakes her head, then slapping her face a few times. "Alright, Yuri, you cut this time. We need an idiot's hands on the deck for this one." Rimi straightens out the deck of cards with the five outliers included and pushes it in Yuri's direction.

"M-Me? But we already established I'm terrible at -"

"That's not the least bit important, you fool. Can't you understand anything?"

"But I'm not -" Yuri simmers down immediately, eyes darting to the tiny flame that dances about Miho's fingers as she snaps them, like a cat drawn to some string. "Hey, can you make it bigger?" He asks very quietly.

"Are you gonna do what Rimi wants?" Miho grins.

"Yeah, yeah, sure, just… Could you please?"

She snaps her fingers again and the flame glows even brighter. Yuri nearly jumps.

Miho laughs. "This might be the best idea you've had. I've actually got a condition of my own, though, before I'll sign off on this."

"Let's hear it." Rika offers no opposition.

"One way or another this is going to be it – this is going to be the last time we're going to play this game as a group. I already know it in my heart how this'll all turn out." As she says this Homu and Yuri exchange concerned looks. "So, with that in mind, my one and only condition is this – all of us are going to be involved. Where one fails, the next will try to succeed. And that includes you too, Rika."

"No matter how much free reign you have, you never fail to act within parameters. It's that kind of thinking that got us into this mess," Rika replies. "But I'll see to it, even should the rest of you end up dead and buried that this game will be seen through to the end."

And so the game began again.


End file.
